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duhragonball · 1 month

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Neon Genesis Evangelion 26

All right, let's put this to bed.

There's a lot of text in this episode, and it opens with a "recap" of the previous episode, claiming that we're witnessing the realization of the Human Instrumentality Project, which is apparently the unification of all human minds into a single merged consciousness. But Episodes 25 and 26 only depict the process through a single individual, Shinji, because "there is not enough time to show the entire process". Well whose fault is that?

Tell you what, let's take this at face value for a minute. I refused to accept that this is really what the HIP was supposed to be, because the information is coming to me in a pair of episodes that appear to be set in Shinji's imagination. At best, it could only be what Shinji thinks the Human Instrumentality Project could be, but I doubt he's even heard of it.

But let's accept that it's true, and right after Shinji killed the last Angel, Gendo put into motion his master plan, which was apparently some application of the Evas' ability to synchronize the thoughts of different life forms. He flips some switch, and now all humans everywhere are suddenly linked together. Shinji experiences this and is horrified, because he's still coming to terms with killing the last Angel, on top of all the other issues he's been wrestling with his whole life.

I guess it makes a measure of sense, because this would be Gendo's only hope of seeing his dead wife again. I think she was accidentally absorbed into the Eva she was working on, and they tried to restore her body like they did with Shinji several episodes ago, but it didn't work. So maybe Gendo figures if everyone merges together the same way, they'll all be reunited, and Yui can be part of that communion, even if she can't get her body back.

At least, that's a plausible motivation for him to want to do all of this. Gendo's never really fit into the world, and maybe he sees this as the only way to find peace. This way, he doesn't have to worry about being offputting and cold, because we're all one, and the differences between us no longer exist. But while Gendo finds that desirable, Shinji finds it horrifying.

Yeah, this is starting to make a little more sense. In this scenario, Shinji and Asuka would find it difficult to adjust, because they've each placed so much of their perceived self-worth into their careers as Eva pilots. Shinji hates himself a little less when he's piloting the Eva, and Asuka feels like she has an identity of her own when she's piloting the Eva. But in this unified consciousness, that distinctiveness is stripped away. They don't to be with their parents because they've put so much effort into getting away from their parents, and now this situation forces them to confront all the things they used to easily avoid.

I guess maybe Rei has an easier time adjusting to this status quo, since she was already a sort of collective organism, and didn't have much self-identity in the first place.

So in his panic, Shinji closed his mind off from the others. He wished for a haven apart from everything that caused him pain, but that just means he's alone and apart from the rest of the world. The others--or perhaps his imaginings of the others-- convince him that this is useless. Shinji worries about being liked and appreciated and understood, and defines himself by how others perceive him, but ultimately one's self-perception isn't all that different from the perception other's have of you.

To illustrate this, they show Shinji floating in a white void. It's unlimited freedom, because there are no obstacles to impede him. He can literally go anywhere he wants in any direction, but there's also nothing there, so there's no point to any of it, and nowhere to go and nothing to do.

But draw a line on the space, and now he has a floor. It gives him a reference point. Now he can walk around and there's a ground and a sky. There's finally a sense of place, but it costs him a degree of freedom.

By extension, the additional boundaries imposed by others is what shapes and defines the self. In a world all by himself, Shinji is completely undefined. Surrounded by nothing, he may as well be nothing, because there's no point of reference.

And that's a salient point, because it calls back to Kaworu's final words before Shinji killed him in Episode 24. According to Kaworu, only one life form would survive their conflict--the Angels or the Humans. But if the Angels prevailed, then what would remain? Kaworu was the last one, so with humanity's destruction, he would inherit an empty world. That's why he was happy for Shinji to win, because at least his victory could actually mean something. And while Shinji was upset about killing him, I think he also respected what Kaworu was trying to say. At least, I think he gets it now, in this empty world, where he's getting a taste of the fate Kaworu wanted to avoid.

So Shinji finally imagines something else, and wakes up in a different world, one where he and Asuka and Rei are ordinary schoolchildren. He even does the thing where he collides into the new girl (Rei) on their way to school, and Rei's got the toast in her mouth and everything. Misato's their teacher, and it's all a little too idyllic, but that's not the point.

The point is that Shinji can imagine himself in any kind of reality he chooses, and still retain his sense of self in such a world. He doesn't pilot an Eva in that world he just envisioned, and he was still himself. Asuka was still Asuka. So the idea that his identity is bound up in piloting an Eva is false. He doesn't need a particular job to matter. He just needs other people around him to define who and what he is.

So that seems to resolve part of Shinji's trouble, but there's still a catch: He hates himself, and thinks everyone around him hates him as well. But that's just a matter of perspective. He hates himself because he chooses to hate himself, and so he chooses to believe himself worthy of hatred, so he assumes everyone else hates him too.

And slowly, Shinji starts to consider loving himself, and wanting to be himself, and wanting to exist in the wider world. As he does, the cracks start to form in the barrier he's created around himself, and...

He's here. Wherever here is. I'm going to stick with this premise and say that he's finally accepting his place in this collective consciousness that his father has put together. That's why everyone is here to meet him, and why they're all congratulating him for figuring it out. Perhaps everyone in this new merger has had to go through a similar process to make it to this stage, and so they understand what Shinji just went through to make it this far.

Of course, Kaji's supposed to be dead, so I can't quite explain why he would be here, unless his existence in this world is just the memories others had of him. Or maybe he didn't die after all. We never saw a body.

And Pen-Pen isn't human, so I don't know how he got in. Maybe there was a Penguin Instrumentality Project that we didn't know about.

I could just be blowing smoke. My gut tells me this episode is a train wreck, like Episode 25. I'm having to do a lot of heavy lifting to make this fit into some coherent narrative. It would have helped if Gendo had discussed what HIP was before Episode 24, so we could recognize any of this as what he had been aspiring to achieve.

But, it's appealing to try to take this literally. To say "That's not just Shinji imagining his parents in some dream, that's actually his parents, reunited in an artificial heaven of their own design. Their family was broken in the past, but in this reality, they can heal." At least that's a compelling notion, and a somewhat satisfactory ending to the series.

I don't know that I buy it, though. Asuka deserved a more focused resolution to her character arc than this. They sort of tacked her identity crisis onto Shinji's, but that doesn't work for me. In a better planned series, there would have been enough episodes left to give each of them their own moment of growth.

Mostly, this ending blows because there was so much lore that didn't get explained in this show, and I don't know if that's because they thought it wasn't worth getting into, or if they were just too fixated on Shinji's turmoil to prioritize anything else. I really wanted to know what the deal was with the Second Angel, and this show totally blew it off.

Or did it?

Now that I've finished the box set, I decided to look in the character bios on the last disc, and I found this one, about Lilith, the Second Angel. This is great, because it confirms what I thought was going on in Episode 24. Everyone called this guy "Adam" and assumed he was the First Angel, but it was actually the Second, Lillith, and no one knew the difference until Kaworu got close enough to notice.

I mean, maybe SEELE, Gendo, and possibly Ritsuko knew who it really was, but that's why Third Impact never happened whenever the Evas or Angels approached it. Apparently the purple on Lillith's face is a mask depicting the SEELE coat of arms, so maybe they put that on her as a disguise, which is why the Angels never knew the difference until the very end.

Adam is the forebearer of the other Angels, and Lilith is apparently the progenitor of humans, so I guess that explains why the Evas made from Lillith were like Angels without being Angels themselves. I still have other questions, but at least I'm somewhat satisfied.

So that's it. I finally finished the NGE TV series. Now I want to check out End of Evangelion, and maybe start perusing the fan wikis for other information I missed. This is nice. I have to say, this series has been kind of uneven. Great in some places and downright crappy in others. But it's very gratifying to have finally experienced it for myself. I've been curious about it for a long time, and sating my curiosity feels more rewarding than the actual quality of the show.

Play us out, 4kids.

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#neon genesis evangelion #2024ngeliveblog #shinji ikari #yo shinji get in the robot #your dad loves you get in the robot #Youtube

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whump-me · 11 months

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Martyr, Chapter 19: The Truth This Time

Chapter 19 of Martyr, a novel-length sci-fi whump story about a captured Martian rebel with a secret and the renowned interrogator who has waited a decade for the chance to break him. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: multiple defiant whumpees, cold whumper, restraints, interrogation, verbal sparring, forced to watch, hand stabbing, blood, brief wound infection mention, adult characters described as “kids” by an older and more jaded narrator

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Wraith

Isadora left him alone for a while after that—to think, she said. So think he did. He sat under the harsh lights of the interrogation room, the cuffs cutting off his blood flow and digging into his probably-infected ankle wound, and he thought about Gabriel. He pictured himself in Gabriel’s office again, imagined Gabriel looking at him with those sorrowful eyes. I’m sorry, imaginary Gabriel kept saying. And, I never should have let you do this.

Shut up, Wraith answered. Then, aloud, “Shut up,” just to hear something beside the hissing of the air vent. Gabriel didn’t answer.

In his imaginings, he wasn’t pacing back and forth in front of Gabriel’s desk. He was sitting cuffed to a metal chair, all but three of his fingers swollen and bent at odd angles. It was getting harder for Wraith to forget where he was.

Good. He couldn’t afford to drop his defenses, even for a moment. Especially not now. Isadora knew the truth now, which meant the stakes of her game had gone up. She wouldn’t waste her time on trying to get some useless statement from him anymore. Now they were playing for Gabriel’s life.

When Isadora came back, she wasn’t alone. Two guards followed in her wake, dragging a prisoner between them. Wraith couldn’t tell if they were the same guards as before. They all looked the same in their Special Security uniforms, a dark enough blue to hide the blood, with that hated blue-and-green emblem. They all wore the same flat neutrality on their faces, the empty expression that almost hid their nerves around Isadora. News of what had she had done last night must have gotten around.

Then he got a look at the prisoner.

At first, he thought it was Callum, and dizziness washed over him. Had last night actually happened? Had he hallucinated all of it? But when he blinked, and looked again, he didn’t know how he could have mistaken this man for the other.

They were both kids, or near enough, but that was where the similarities ended. Where Callum had been broken and empty-eyed, this man snarled and spat defiance. The guards had to tighten their grip on his arms until their knuckles were white to keep him from wrenching himself free, even with his hands cuffed behind him. He spent every curse word under the sun as he kicked and flailed against them.

His eyes shone with a painful courage—painful because Wraith knew how futile it was. And because Wraith knew that look—the defiance in his voice, the fury on his face. He might as well have been looking at himself from ten years ago. That was how well he knew that aura of fury that threatened to consume him along with everything around him… and that deep well of devotion shining in the young man’s rage-filled eyes.

Wraith had always been willing to die for Gabriel. And he had never been the only one.

Isadora motioned toward the empty chair. The guards uncuffed the prisoner and shoved him hard into the chair, then got to work securing him. Wraith swallowed, his mouth dry.

He knew why this man was here.

“Don’t you do it,” he spat at Isadora. “Don’t you dare.” Empty words. Because what was he going to do to her if she drew a line down his cheek with a knife, if she beat him to death right here in this room? He could threaten her all he liked, but he would start begging again if she came anywhere close to what she had done to Callum. He knew it, and he knew Isadora knew it.

Isadora checked the prisoner’s restraints carefully, just as she had with Callum. “That’s not what we’re doing today,” she said as she tightened one of his wrist cuffs. “Not yet, at least. I think it’s time for us to have another civilized conversation. One where we both tell the truth, this time.”

She stood and leaned against the wall behind the young prisoner. He spat a curse over his shoulder at her.

“Don’t,” Wraith told the prisoner quietly, earning him a dirty look from the man. Wraith remembered being that age. Back then, he had thought any deference shown to an Earth soldier—including passing one in the street without offering a snarl and a shouted curse—was tantamount to surrender. It was a wonder he had survived.

“I don’t buy it,” he said to Isadora. “If you just want to talk, why bring anyone else into it?”

“Because I’d prefer this conversation to be more fruitful than our last. I intend to get to know you—the real you, this time. For every lie you tell, and every question you refuse to answer, I’ll hurt this man. I’m sure you remember how that goes.” She stepped forward to place a possessive hand on the prisoner’s shoulder. The prisoner bared his teeth at her like he wanted to bite it off at the wrist. She tightened her grip.

“And what makes you think you can tell when I’m lying?” Wraith asked, summoning the ghost of his former smirk. “You didn’t have a clue last time.”

Isadora dug her fingernails into the prisoner’s shoulder, drawing a noise of pain from him that he couldn’t quite suppress. “I didn’t know how the pieces fit together then,” she said. “Now I do. You’re exactly what you seemed to be at our first meeting—someone incapable of inspiring a movement, capable only of a few meaningless gestures of defiance and then an early death. I read you accurately from the start; I simply didn’t have enough information to recognize that. So yes, if you lie, I’ll know.”

Wraith had his doubts. But he kept quiet. From this moment forward, he didn’t intend to say anything to her unless he had to. As it was, she was already going to make him say more than he wanted to. He wouldn’t give up anything that could lead her to Gabriel, but if she wanted to demonstrate her power over him by making him play this little game, he would play. He would be her trained parrot and say everything she wanted to hear. He would let her earn all the victories she wanted, so long as it meant not watching someone die in front of him so he could rack up a few meaningless points in a made-up game.

“Let’s not waste our time with unimportant questions,” said Isadora. “I’d prefer to skip straight to what I’m the most curious about.” She took out her knife and ran her finger slowly down the blade, careful to avoid the cutting edge. “When the leader of your rebellion asked you to sacrifice your life, why did you agree to do it? I know the man is persuasive, but what precisely was it that persuaded you? You have your flaws—and they are many—but I can tell you’re too strong-willed to be swayed easily.”

“I told you,” said Wraith, “he didn’t ask me. It was all my idea. Were you listening at all?”

In a single sharp motion, Isadora slammed the knife down into the back of the prisoner’s hand. The prisoner howled in intermingled pain and range. Blood seeped out from around the blade. It hadn’t sunk in far—the tip had stopped when it hit the metal arm of the chair. But it had pierced his hand all the way through, and Wraith suspected it had gone through at least one important tendon on the way. Just like his own, the prisoner’s hand would never heal, even if by some miracle he made it out. Wraith felt sick.

The prisoner looked down at his hand with gritted teeth. Isadora held the blade in place, like she was pinning a butterfly. The prisoner’s face went a shade paler. He swallowed. For the first time since he had walked into the room, fear overtook the anger in his eyes.

Wraith wondered if the man, for all his defiance, had ever felt real pain before.

“You can’t say we’re playing a game and then break the rules you set out,” Wraith ground out through gritted teeth. “You said you’d hurt him if I lied. I’m not lying.”

“I think you are,” she said. Then she gave a small shrug and pulled the knife free at an angle that widened the wound. The motion looked careless, but Wraith knew that nothing Isadora did was anything less than precise—except when the ice in her eyes thawed. And right now, her eyes were still cold enough to give Wraith a shiver when he looked at her. She was just trying to do one last bit of damage. It worked. The prisoner let out a strangled groan through his teeth.

Blood welled up from his hand. It formed rivers on his skin, and those rivers became smaller streams, splitting and splitting again as the blood ran down his fingers and dripped onto the floor.

“I think you’re lying,” Isadora repeated without so much as sparing a glance for the prisoner, “but I’ll let you have that one for now. We can come back to it later. For now, I’ll rephrase—why did you sacrifice yourself?”

“Because he has to survive,” said Wraith. With that, his words ran dry, because what else was there to say? But Isadora was still watching him expectantly, holding up the knife in anticipation.

“You said it yourself,” he said. “He’s the one who inspires everyone. He’s the one who can get them to fight. I sure as hell can’t do it. If he dies, the rebellion dies, and I wasn’t about to let that happen. I wasn’t ready to let Earth win.”

The knife came down again. This time, Isadora had to lean over to jam it into the center of the prisoner’s other hand. The man jerked against his restraints, but she had tightened them expertly—the only thing that moved was his neck, jerking futilely as the muscles stood out in sharp cords.

She pulled the knife free once more. A glistening drop of blood dripped from the blade onto her uniform pants. She wrinkled her nose in distaste and pulled out a black cloth, which she used to wipe the blade clean. The prisoner stared down at his hands, at the blood flowing up from his skin and then down onto the floor. Isadora didn’t look at him.

“I went easy on the last one to give you a chance to understand your situation,” said Isadora. “I don’t have any reason to do that this time. You already know how this works. That means you need to be careful with those lies of yours, or you’re going to have to watch another of your friends die. Maybe the one who sent you here would find that acceptable, but I don’t think you would. Choose your next answer carefully.”

“Don’t you even talk about him,” spat Wraith. “It’s just as well you don’t know his name. You wouldn’t be worthy of speaking it. You don’t understand anything about him, because you think everyone is like you.”

Isadora answered with a thin smile, as if she had earned a small victory. “Why did you choose to sacrifice your life?”

Wraith took a breath before answering. If he got it wrong again, he didn’t know where the knife would go next, except that it would be someplace worse than the hands this time. Besides, what he really wanted to say was fuck you, and somehow he didn’t think that would get a better reaction.

He called up his mental image of Gabriel again. He imagined Gabriel asking the question—Why did you volunteer? Why didn’t you let me talk you out of this? He imagined himself standing in front of Gabriel’s desk, his limbs twitching with nervous energy, as he insisted it was for the cause. Maybe he would even have believed it. But it would have been a lie all the same. Wraith didn’t give a damn about the cause. Not compared to Gabriel.

I did it for everyone who would die or give up hope if you weren’t there to lead them, he tried next. His imagined Gabriel shook his head, his face solemn. That was closer, but it wasn’t right either. If he said it aloud to Isadora, the prisoner would lose an eye, or worse.

Wraith let out a quiet sigh. “I did it for him,” he said. “Because he didn’t deserve to die at your hands, and I couldn’t stand to let it happen. I’m sorry if you want more than that. But that’s the answer, all right? That’s what I’ve got.” He looked down at the table, letting his head fall into his face. He stared down at his blurry reflection in the polished metal surface, so he wouldn’t have to watch the knife come down again.

But Isadora didn’t move. “Why?” she pressed. “What makes him worth sacrificing for? Why does he inspire such devotion?”

Wraith sneered at her. “Why do you care? Are you wondering why no one loves you the way they love him, even though you two are supposedly so alike?”

Isadora raised the knife.

“Stop,” he said hastily. “I’ll answer, all right? Just give me a minute.”

Isadora waited, knife hovering in the air.

He wanted to say it was because the rebellion needed Gabriel. It was the right answer, the noble answer. It was what he had told Gabriel, back when he had insisted on doing this. But he knew that if he said it out loud, Isadora would bring the knife down.

Wraith swallowed. “Because I love him,” he said through clenched teeth. “And when you love someone, you’ll do any stupid thing to keep them safe. Not that you would know. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

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Tagged: @straight-to-the-pain @soheavyaburden @gala1981 @whumpacabra @sacredwrath @suspicious-whumping-egg @sonder35 @decahedron-crabclaw @seasaltandcopper @tremendousenemyhideout @bloodinkandashes @whumplr-reader @whatiswhumpblog

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#whump #whump writing #whump story #whump novel #my writing #my writing: Martyr #sci-fi whump #interrogation whump

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jelliclekay · 10 months

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Okay, I got a lot of interest in posting this. So here's a little thing I wrote with Bombalurina and my OC Calfuray!

Background: Takes place a few days after Bombalurina leaves Macavity. Calfuray is mates with a Macavity hench cat.

“I knew you would be up here,” Bombalurina remarks, but Calfuray doesn’t acknowledge the red Queen’s presence. Calfuray is huddled against the brick wall lining the rooftop, arms wrapped around herself as though she’s trying to hide from the world.

“Not really anywhere else to go.” Calfuray mutters to herself, but Bomba still hears her, the silence on the roof loud enough that Bomba can hear the nervous tapping of the purple Queen’s claws against the hard floor.

Bomba sits herself next to Calfuray, who doesn’t budge from her position. It’s a rare moment where Bomba gets to talk with the other Queen alone, with Calfuray’s mate having her practically under lock and key. But when he’s away on a job, the purple Queen always finds a way up on the roof despite Macavity and the hench cat’s best efforts to keep the area locked down.

The two sit in silence for awhile, Calfuray still nervously moving her body around, clearly bothered by something. Bombalurina wants to ask her what’s wrong, but doesn’t want to make the Queen uncomfortable by bringing up whatever happened to make her so fidgety.

“I hate the way that thing looks at me.” Calfuray blurts out of nowhere, and Bomb is caught off guard by the usually silent Queen's outburst.

"Who-" Bomba starts to ask, but Calfuray continues.

“Macavity. I hate him. The look he gave me earlier today when he and Jonathan were planning... whatever it is that they're planning. It made me sick.” Calfuray says angrily, and Bomba is stunned at how brazenly the Queen is talking about the cat who could kill her with a flick of his wrist if he overheard this conversation.

Had Bombalurina heard all this just a month ago, she might had been offended at the horrific things she was hearing about Macavity. She might have been tempted to tell Macavity about all this, as a way to impress him or show her loyalty to him.

But now, Bombalurina just sits and listens. She can’t blame the other Queen for her deep hatred. Calfuray has certainly been there longer than she has, and Bombalurina can only imagine what the other Queen has been through.

“Bombalurina.” Calfuray finally speaks again, “Why are you still here?”

Bomba is caught off guard by the question, and she stays quiet.

“You have to know by now why Macavity brought you here. He's just... desperate to try and replace Demeter, and he's using you to do that. You don’t deserve that. I know you know that you don't deserve that."

Bombalurina bites her lip, sinking down against the cool red tile behind her. Again, just a month ago, she might have tried to claw Calfuray's eyes out for even insisting that Macavity didn't want her. But she doesn’t know what to believe anymore.

"Go back to that Junkyard place. It's where you belong. I know you're tough, that you can hold your own against the cats who live here. But you don't belong here."

"And you do?" Bombalurina retorts back, and Calfuray lets out a cold, empty laugh.

"It's too late for me." She claims, the bitter defeat evident in her voice, “But it isn’t for you.”

“What makes you say that?” Bombalurina demands to know.

"I’m sure the cats in that Junkyard miss you. But me? I have nothing outside of Jonathan. Nothing outside of this place."

Bombalurina wants to argue with her, try to desperately convince the purple Queen to come with her if she does decide to leave.

But the sudden cackling of laughter and booming voices from the streets below jolts Calfuray to her feet.

"Jonathan is back. I have to go.”

“Calfuray, wait-” Bombalurina scrambles to her feet to try and reach out for the Queen bolting towards the door, but she’s too slow to catch the skittering, terrified Queen this time.

#cats the musical #bombalurina #cats the musical oc #if anyone takes the time to read this thank you #it was just a little self indulgent thing

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klbwriting · 1 year

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The Jason Todd Anomaly

Chapter 11: Fuck Off Dick

Pairing: Jason Todd x female!Reader

Warnings: just some arguing, Dick is being a dick

Summary: Jason and Y/N are recovering when they receive an invitation they can’t refuse

All Other Chapters

Jason groaned as he tried to move. Every part of his body felt like it was bruised. He hadn't been this beat up in a long time honestly, mostly just keeping people out of his territory, maybe getting into a scuffle with Penguin or Two-Face, nothing like last night. He tried to sit up but felt an arm on his chest. He looked down, remembering that he had fallen asleep with Y/N next to him. He was able to turn his head and saw her still asleep. She looked like hell and he could imagine he wore similar coloring.

"Everything hurtssss..." Y/N said, extending the 's' longer than needed. Jason chuckled but moaned, his ribs must have been at least bruised. He thought she would pull away, try to get up, but instead she scooted closer. He was still in his armor so he barely felt her head on his chest but just seeing it there and his heart started beating faster. What the fuck? It never did that. He had thought he was going to resist her but somehow that seemed stupid now. She had hinted last night that she had feelings for him. She had almost died. How could he not try to be with her when she seemed to want to be with him?

"Well, how was your first night as a member of the Bat Family?" Stephanie asked, bounding up the loft stairs carrying a tray with herbal tea, some breakfast, and pain meds. Y/N groaned and sat up slowly. Jason sat up quicker, making him wince, but he set the pillows up so Y/N could lean on them and not the cold headboard. She looked at him and smiled and in rare form, he gave her a smile back. Then he looked to Stephanie, who was smiling from ear to ear. The tray was set over Y/N's lap and she downed the meds with some tea, not caring how it burned. Jason did the same.

"It fucking sucked, I hate this family," Y/N said. "Count me out of Thanksgiving." Steph clapped. "Thank you, tell the others thank you from me too, I appreciate all the help." The young Robin nodded and left the wounded alone to eat breakfast. "She brought us pancakes but its after 2PM."

"This is normal breakfast time here," Jason said. "Normally I'm making the pancakes, Tim must have done these ones, they're overcooked." Y/N stared for a moment. "What? I can cook." She smiled at him and ate more food. Jason watched her for a moment before saying what he had been dreaming while unconscious. "You killed Harley." Y/N swallowed what was in her mouth, considering her next words.

"Yes, I killed her," she said. "Anyone else have a hand in your death?" Jason shook his head. "Good, my Jason Todd revenge killings list is checked off, now to move onto those fucking bird freaks." She sat back a bit, finished eating. Jason moved the tray to the floor, glad the pain meds were starting to take some affect. He needed to get up, get a shower, and tell the others about their escapade the previous evening.

"Thank you for killing her," he said. "Do you want to shower first or let me?" She turned to look at him, smirking.

"I want to make a joke about showering together but I don't want to laugh right now," she said, blushing a little. Jason chuckled and groaned, ya, the pain meds weren't that good yet. "Go shower, you probably want to get out of all that bullet-proof shit." He nodded. "I'm going to walk around a little bit, my legs are aching."

"Don't leave the tower, please," he instructed. She nodded and assured him she wasn't going anywhere for awhile. The drugs were here, so where else would she go? Jason went to his bathroom and stripped down, turning on the hot water. He climbed in and let the water cleanse him of not only the blood and muck of the previous evening but of the drive for revenge against Harley. It was now time for a new creed of vengeance. He was planning an owl hunt.

Y/N wandered down the stairs to the main area of the tower. There was a wall of guns, another full of screens and lab equipment, and another had the kitchen area. Tim was cleaning up the area, Damian was at the table, feet propped up, reading what looked like an old Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. Alfred and Stephanie were no where to be seen, and Dick was watching the screens, studying what was clearly camera footage from the Monarch the previous evening. Y/N walked over slowly, watching with him. Damn, her takedown of Harley was awesome.

"So you have cameras at all the hideouts of crime lords?" she asked. Dick looked at her, eyes full of annoyance. O guess he wasn't a fan of hers anymore, boo-fucking-hoo.

"Jason has the cameras, keeps track of things, I'm guessing so he can plan blackmail or to somehow intimidate them," he said. "You're a killer."

"That I am," she said without remorse. "She was one of the reasons Jason died, I'm glad she's dead." Dick shook his head. "He's your brother..."

"He's never really been a brother, not like the others have," he said. She glared at him. "What? He doesn't stand for anything Bruce did, that we do. He's reckless, and angry, and murderous. He's no better than Harley and her ilk."

"If I had the energy to punch the shit out of you right now I would," Y/N snarled. Dick looked at her surprised. "What? Did you think you listing off Jason's flaws would make me agree with your self-righteous ass? No, fuck off Dick. Batman, Bruce Wayne, whatever, thought he was such a good guy, locking up all those psychos from the city in Arkham, but what good really did he do? He was working for 25 years in this city and its still a cesspool of violence and trash. Maybe if he would have taken out a few of those villains things would have been different. Jason understood that. Probably why Bruce stood aside and let Joker kill him. He knew Jason was right..."

"You keep your opinion of Bruce in your head or else..." Dick moved closer to her, face livid.

"Or what Dick?" Jason said, walking over to them. Tim and Damian were watching now, wondering if they were going to have to stop another fight between their older brothers.

"She doesn't respect us, or Bruce," Dick said. "She is blinded by bloodlust just like you, we are supposed to be better than the bad guys." Jason shook his head.

"You are an idiot, being better than them means they win, because they can come back over and over and over until this city is cut up, in pieces, and secret societies start taking it back for themselves," he said. Dick stepped back, confused. "Ya, we need to have a chat about what actually happened last night. The Monarch wasn't our first stop." Jason glanced back at Y/N. "Go shower, I'll tell them about what happened. I left some clothes for you in the bathroom, I'm sure they don't fit, but its all I could do." Y/N smiled at him.

"You'd be surprised, I'm sure they fit better than you think," she said. She reached out and gently took his hand, squeezing it gently, before heading back up to the loft. Jason turned back to Dick, glaring before going to the kitchen table and sitting down. Tim, Damian, and Dick all joined him and he told them what had happened. He explained the court, they're offer to him, the killing tunnel, and his best guess where that place even was. He wasn't entirely sure. They sat in silence for a long time after that before all producing a feather from their pockets.

"We've been wondering what these were about," Tim said. "Also...this arrived before you guys got here last night. And we each received one also." He slid a box across the table to Jason. He untied the bow and opened the fancy package. Inside was an invitation and a mask, black and red, made to cover his forehead and eyes but leave his mouth exposed. He frowned, opening the invitation.

Mr Todd, You are cordially invited to a fundraiser for the GCPD To be held at the newly acquired Gotham City Hotel Friday the 13th beginning at 9PM. No need to RSVP, you will attend The Court

"Those fuckers don't give up do they?" he grumbled. Tim slid another box forward.

"This one is for Y/N," he said. Jason glared at the offending package before opening it. Inside was a smaller mask, more feminine, and it was black and red, matching his. They had matched her to him, marking her as a target with him. Shit. Maybe he should try to resist his feelings, resist her. But she would be so angry, what right did he have to pull away from her when she would need him and his help? He needed her as much as she needed him, they would have to get through this together because there was no other way.

"We're going to this fundraiser and we will back you up Jason, you and Y/N," Tim said. "Right you two?" he continued, throwing pointed looks to Dick and Damian. Damian shrugged while Dick just stared at Jason for awhile before nodding. Damian stood up and looked at the other three before asking,

"Who's going to tell Y/N she has to find a dress for a party?"

#Jason Todd #jason todd x plus size reader #jason todd x reader #jasontoddanomaly #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x plus size reader

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vixenninjaturtle · 1 year

Text

VAMPIRIC LOVE pt. 3. (Final)

TMNT RAPH (2016) x Fem Reader

For @ashleighclark98

Three weeks have passed since you were attacked. Raphael was so worried that he ended up calling his brothers for some assistance. Donatello was in charge of monitoring your health and the progress of your change. Leonardo was asked to help with meetings with guests, while Michelangelo is in charge of the cooking and cleaning. Raph needless to say was by your side every day since, praying that you would soon wake up. He just couldn't imagine his life without you.

And as much as he tried to keep up this facade of being a tough grumpy cold-hearted vampire, deep down he was really growing fond of you despite your feisty personality. You could even say that he's falling in love with you. Which is why he hopes that you would wake up pretty soon so he can say it to your face.

One evening Raph decided to end his last meeting early. Knowing that you were still unconscious he just couldn't seem to concentrate on his work. He wanted nothing more than to hear your voice and hold you in his arms. He couldn't even bring himself to eat let alone sleep due to the fact that he was so worried about you.

"Raph please you got to eat something. You got to keep your strength up. " Leo encouraged his brother.

"Yeah yeah I know Leo I know! But I just... Don't have much of an appetite." Raph sighed with his hands covering his face.

"We can't understand that bro, and we all know you're really worried about y/n but still you'll need your strength when she wakes up." Mikey followed up bringing his brother a pouch of blood.

"Mikey's right Raph if you don't do it for anybody else... Please do it for y / n. She's going to need you to get her in this journey and becoming a vampire."

"Yes I know and I get that but what if she hates me for turning her into a vampire? I mean I try so hard to keep her out of this life to keep her human forever. But seeing her Motionless... I couldn't just let her life in like that. I just... hope she's not angry with me for taking that choice away from her."

"And who said I was mad at you? If anything I'm glad it was you who turned me and not anyone else."

Raphael's head immediately shot up from his hands and whipped around so fast you thought he'd give himself whiplash just to see you standing at the entrance of his office awake and moving around.

"Y/n?... Y-you're awake?... but when? And for how long?" Raph stammered as he made his way towards you.

"She actually woke up a few hours ago. And after explaining everything to her making sure her wound has fully healed Plus checking her over she insisted on coming to see you and surprise you." Don explained walking in from behind her.

"I'm just happy that you're okay, I was seriously losing my mind with worry and y/n, I'm really sorry for putting you in that situation. If I had known he was going to react like that----"

Raphs' words were suddenly cut off as you pressed your finger to his lips. "Shhhh it's ok Raph but that's all over now. All that matters now is that I'm here with you and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." You smiled caressing his cheek

Raphael stared into your beautiful e/c is before wrapping his arms around you embracing you and a hug.

"Come on guys, we should leave them alone and give them their privacy." Donnie suggested to his brothers.

Both Leo and Mikey looked at each other then look between Raphael and Y/N before smiling agreeing to Donnie's suggestion. As they were leaving they each patted their brother on the back of his shell basically encouraging him to tell you about his feelings. Once everyone was gone, you and Raph finally released each other from your embrace.

"Again y/n I'm really sorry, I never meant to put you in danger nor did I ever want you to find out that I was a vampire... or at least not like this."

"Raph you don't have to apologize for anything. I assumed anyway you being a millionaire you're prone to having some enemies. Plus I already figured that you were a vampire from the get-go." You smirked at that last statement.

Raphs' I grew wide after hearing you already knew about him being a vampire. But then again, he kind I've had a feeling that you knew already because you were a lot smarter than you looked. And despite him trying so hard to keep that side of his life hidden it seems like he did a pretty poor job.

"Hehe, why am I not surprised you are always so feisty and always sticking your nose into things you had no business knowing. Nonetheless that's what I love about you." Raph smirked as he leaned in closer pressing his lips on yours.

You were shot to hear that Raphael the grumpy turtle and your employer who always said that you two will never be friends said that he loved you. However you are even more shocked that he kissed you without hesitation. He then pulled away from you allowing you to catch a breath as you both stared into each other's eyes.

"I love you too Raph." You whispered before leaning in for another kiss.

#leonardo #reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #donatello #michaelangelo #raphael #tmnt 2016 #bayverse turtles #vampire lover #bite #female reader #my art #request

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sukirichi · 3 years

Note

dnhfjdanxs- imagine husband! Bonten getting into a little 'married couple' fight with their wife and when she gets mad she looks so adorable they can't help but smile and tease her, wich only makes her madder so she makes them sleep on the couch😭

BONTEN COUPLE GETTING INTO AN ARGUMENT – EVICTED TO THE COUCH !!

☁︎ mikey, haitani ran, haitani rindou, kakucho hitto, kokonoi hajime, haruchiyo sanzu

☁︎ unedited. angst. sanzu uses drugs. hurtful comments :(

♡ — MIKEY

Mikey has had a long day. There’s been a miscalculation in Kokonoi’s funds, the Haitani Brothers disappeared off into their own agendas without telling him, Sanzu came to work high and wouldn’t stop laughing during meetings, and Kakucho walked out of the room out of exasperation. It’s been a terrible day, the storm clouding his shoulders brought all the way home. You understand his pain and his troubles, but sometimes, you really wished Mikey would be more careful with his words when he’s frustrated.

“Mikey, you should at least wash your face before heading to bed-”

“Leave me alone and stop nagging,” he growls, nails digging into his scalp as you stand before him, perplexed at the sudden venom in his voice. “Just shut up will you? I can’t get a fucking break anywhere. Your voice is so annoying too – it’s scratching against my ears, fuck, I’m so tired.”

You stepped in front of him, your body blocking the door as tears glistened in your eyes. Still, you held them in, refusing to give your husband the satisfaction he was getting to you.

Mikey sighs at your stubbornness. “Move out of the way. I’m tired, okay? Just let me go to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow when I’m feeling better.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow when you pull out that stick from your ass,” you retort, stomping in the room to throw pillows and blankets his way. Mikey catches them with his arms, brows drawn together when you fling him a pair of socks that lands on his irritated face. “You’re sleeping in the couch tonight. There’s no way I can sleep beside you when you’re being mean. I get that you had a bad day but you can’t just take it out on me and say hurtful things.”

“...What’re the socks for?”

Your shoulders slumped as you leant against the door, heart aching that your husband won’t even apologize. Mikey has always been this way. Prideful, unwilling to admit he makes mistakes, and head too up the clouds to ever see you eye to eye. “I know your feet get cold easily,” you mumble, closing the door halfway to look at him one last time. “Good night, Mikey.”

Even as you closed the door, awake for hours in the emptiness of a bed meant for two and his side painfully empty, Mikey never crawled beside you. Not even a kiss to the forehead like he always did before leaving for work when you were still half-asleep.

You bit down on the blanket to muffle your cries that night, unaware that Mikey stood outside the door. His fist was raised halfway when he heard your restrained sobs, whines of how mean he was like a direct stab to the heart. Maybe this wasn’t the right time to talk, he thought to himself, and turned his back to the door before retreating to the couch.

♡ — HAITANI RAN

If there was one thing you hated about Ran, it would be his annoying trait of never taking you seriously. You admitted your husband was a devoted man, loyal and protective to a fault, but sometimes he was too confident in taking everything as a joke that you could never come to an understanding. You’d told him multiple times that he should stop leaving his stuff everywhere. He had a habit of leaving his mug on the table when the sink was just a few steps away, or discarding his tie right on the couch because he was too tired that he’d just plop straight to bed.

You weren’t even asking for much. It was a simple request of him to clean up after himself.

“Ran, you’re not a child anymore!” you picked up his gold wristwatch lying on the marble countertops, centimetres from falling before it crashed into pieces. Dragging him to his closet, you pulled out his own watch organizer. “We have this for you, why can’t you put it back as soon as you’re not wearing it?”

“Babe, relax-”

“No, don’t tell me to relax. You always do this and it’s annoying-” you cut yourself off when Ran hides a snicker behind his fist, lips pursed as his eyes glimmer with amusement. “What’s so funny, Ran?”

“Nothing. You’re just too cute.”

“Were you even listening to what I said?”

“I think I heard a thing or two,” he shrugged, the smile on his face falling when your bottom lip quivers. Sniffing, you tucked his watch back into his pillow, closing the drawer and walking past him in loud footsteps. Your husband followed behind you, the sound of his laughter echoing all over the room. “Babe, come on, I was just joking. You take everything too seriously.”

“And you think everyone is a joke,” you spat out. Pointing to the couch, you gritted your teeth to stop yourself from crying – annoyed because you were infuriated but you also wanted his comfort. Wanted his arms around you since sleeping alone wasn’t comfortable. But boundaries were important; he needed to learn not everything was funny. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight, Haitani. Don’t even think of talking to me until the house is spotless by the next morning. Let’s see what’s funny now when you don’t get your goodnight kisses anymore.”

♡ — HAITANI RINDOU

Opposite to Ran, Rindou’s least pleasing trait was that he was impatient. He took everything seriously, the darkness of his life as a Bonten Executive turning him into a rigid, stiff guy who barely smiled. He’d witnessed the cruelty of the world, he was cruel himself so he was often on edge, triggered by the least complicated situations until he was blowing it up too much. Tonight would be one of those where Rindou is tapping his foot on the ground. He’d glanced at his watch more times than he could count, his jaw clenching and unclenching because you were taking long.

“Babe, how long are you going to be in there?”

“Just one more minute!” you called out, plumping your lips as you applied colour over it. Once satisfied with your look, you made your way to Rindou, the smile on your face freezing awkwardly when he offers you a distasteful glance. “Is... is there something wrong with my face?”

“No, but there’s seriously something wrong with your concept of time,” he tapped at his watch flashed in your direction, “I told you I wanted to leave fifteen minutes ago. You took forever there.”

“We’re still half an hour early to our appointment, Rindou. You act as if I’ve just killed somebody.”

“You wasted my time.”

You flinched back at the harsh tone. Fiddling with the necklace to calm yourself down, you sucked your cheeks in as an attempt to hold your tears back. Rindou has had his fair share of letting out mean comments, but did he really have to do this now? On a dinner date you’d been looking forward to since he’d been busy for a while now? You were a waste of time?

“I’m sorry then,” you sniffed, refusing to look him in the eye. “Uhm... I don’t think I want to go anymore; I know you had to cancel a Bonten meeting because I wanted to go out with you. Waste of time, right? So don’t worry about me anymore, I’ll just head to be. You can go back to work.”

Rindou groaned behind you. “Babe, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

“Sleep on the couch tonight,” you gestured to the living room, tears staining this beautiful dress you’d been so excited to wear for him. “I want to be alone tonight.”

♡ — KAKUCHO HITTO

Arguments with Kakucho were as rare as they were drawn out. He was a patient, understanding man who always insisted on clear communication if there was a problem that needed to be worked out, so you never had to worry nor did you understand the complaints of other Bonten wives whenever their husband unnecessarily said something hurtful. Kakucho paid close attention to his words; you were more than lucky to have married him, but nobody was perfect. And wanting a perfect marriage where everything was butterflies and rainbows were impossible.

Kakucho, while being the sweetest husband ever, was also a dedicated Bonten Executive – so much so that you could barely feel his presence.

He’d be out before the sun came out. He’d come home long after you’re asleep, and on the few times he was home, he brought work with him. You wanted to be as patient with him as he was with you that you never said anything about it. You of all people understood how demanding his work was, whatnot with being the most notorious criminal gang. It wasn’t easy for him, but neither was it for you.

You wanted your husband to spend more time you before you believed that he was becoming more and more of a privilege to talk to than a husband you could count on.

Hugging him from behind, you kissed below your husband’s ears. “Kakucho...” you whispered, hands trailing down his arms to loop at his fingers, his knuckles bumping to your palm. “Let’s go to sleep now, or watch a movie at least. You haven’t stopped working for weeks now. I’ve barely talked to you and I’m worried.”

“I’m okay,” he answered, distracted by the paperwork in front of him. It’s like you weren’t even there. “Head to bed straight first, love. I’ll be there later.”

“You always say that but I’m already asleep by the time you come, Kakucho. I’m tired of sleeping and waking up without you – it’s like my husband isn’t here at all.”

“My work is important.”

“More important than me?”

“Fuck, what is it with you tonight?” he slammed his pen on the table, peeling your arms off of him and staring up at you with a scowl. “I’m the one putting the food on the table just to feed us with my hard-earned money. I’m the one working day and night to provide you a comfortable life and I’m doing everything I can, what else do you want from me? Of course Bonten is more important. It’s what makes us live this lavishly.”

“If I’m going to lose my husband through a line of criminal work, then I don’t want it, Kakucho! I just wanted to spend more time with you! Why is it so impossible for you to talk to me for even five minutes?”

“Then you shouldn’t have married me if you wanted a man that could be your playmate each fucking minute because I have other things to do!”

Your mouth fell aghast. “I can’t believe you said that,” tearing your gaze away, you felt Kakucho shoot up from his seat, ready to apologize and coo for what he said. You could tell the exhaustion and sleep deprivation was getting to him. Dark circles lined under his eyes and his shoulders were drooped weary, arms extending to hold you but you gently flicked him away, heart torn and conflicted from this argument rooted from something as small as wanting more of his attention. “You should... you shouldn’t stay up too late. Go to sleep as soon as you’re done, I’ll have food prepared for you before you leave.”

“Love,” he pleaded, “Can’t we at least talk it out?”

“We’re just going to shout at each other. Let’s talk when we’re feeling better,” sending him a forced smile, your heart ached at the sight of Kakucho’s guilt written all over his face. “Can I have the room for tonight, love? I want to be alone for a while, although I’ve been feeling lonely for a while now anyway. Not like anything changed.”

“Will you not let me hold you for a while?”

You nodded to his study. “You should finish your paperwork. Mikey’s going to come for your ass if you don’t get that sorted out soon.”

♡ — KOKONOI HAJIME

Kokonoi has worked hard to fill up both your pockets, ensuring that there’d never be a day where you had to worry for things such as bills or not having anything to eat. He’d gone through hell and back to get where he is now. With his efforts, he was more than eager to spoil you with his black card, reassuring you every day that you could get whatever you wanted and he wouldn’t blink at it. Hell, he wanted you to go crazy – fill up your closet with the latest designer brands, indulge in expensive wine, strut down to the next party you’ll attend with Louboutin – he wanted his pretty baby dolled up until you felt like an absolute goddess.

Only you didn’t want to.

You appreciated your husband’s desire to spoil you, but you wanted to use your own money as much as possible. Your money, your decision. His money, his own expense. Only that you cut back on shopping since you found no need to buy the most expensive brands, nor did you feel like it was important to impress anyone or be the most stunning in an event you didn’t want to attend in the first place. Sometimes, though, Kokonoi could be quite demanding.

“Come on, sweetheart, it’s just a necklace. It won’t kill you to get it. Consider it an advanced birthday gift from me.”

“But you already got me a car.”

“Because I wanted to, and I’d still get you whatever you asked for. We’re loaded, sweetheart. You don’t have to worry about a thing,” he grinned, nodding at the saleslady awkwardly watching your exchange with a stiff smile. “She’ll get it, Miss. Please wrap it up nicely in a box.”

“No, Koko, I don’t want it-”

“God, I should’ve just gotten a sugar baby if I knew you’d be this much of a cheapskate,” he muttered under his breath, thumbs pushed to his forehead. Kokonoi scowled at you for a brief moment before he slapped his card onto the table and pushed it to the saleslady. “She can get whatever she wants here, consider it paid for,” turning to you, he exhaled through his nose. “Meet me in the car once you’re done. If you still don’t want to accept a gift from your husband who only wants you to get something nice, then throw the card away. I don’t care.”

You gaped at your husband who walked away. Out of spite, you bought that damned necklace and rushed back to the car, watching the city speed by as Kokonoi had one hand on the steering wheel. “So you got the necklace,” he glanced at the box on your lap, “I told you it’s not a big deal. You made a fuss out of nothing.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t force me to buy things in the first place,” you snapped, “And sugar baby, seriously? Why would you even think of that?”

“Because you’re being such a drama queen!”

“You’re insufferable, Kokonoi,” you slammed the door when you’d reached the parking lot of your penthouse, heels clacking while your husband leaned over the car, unimpressed by how you’d left the box inside on purpose. “Go give that necklace to your sugar baby, I’m sure they’ll like it. Oh and just a note, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

♡ — HARUCHIYO SANZU

Sanzu has a bad habit of stumbling late into the night, high and out of his mind that he’s creating a ruckus everywhere. He’s taken more than two hits today, coming home singing at the top of his lungs, unaware that you were trying to sleep. You stormed out of the room then, ready to scold him because he might wake the neighbours when you heard a crash, and on the floor you found an ancient vase your mother had gotten you as a gift. Beside it, Sanzu whistled an oops.

“Sanzu, what did you do?! This was a precious gift!”

“‘Twas an ugly vase,” he slurred, crouching down to watch you pick it up one by one carefully. Narrowing his eyes, he laughed at the way you were angrily mumbling to yourself. “You’re cute, wife. Getting all riled up for an ugly vase... I bet that was a fake too. It’s nothing special.”

“Would you shut up?”

“I’m speaking the truth!” he placed a hand on his chest and snorted at you, “Don’t cry now, you’re not a baby anymore. I’ll get you a better vase, babe. Just don’t cry.”

You flicked his hands away as you were busy gathering the shards piece by piece, but Sanzu whined, grabbing you by the wrist until a shard slipped through your palms. Blood gushed out from the cut and you gasped, staring up at Sanzu incredulously who only gasped, but made no move to help. “Hands off me, Sanzu,” you warned, “You’ve done enough, don’t you think? Get the first aid kit and move!”

“I uhm... I don’t know where it is.”

“You’re so hopeless,” you cried, pushing past him as Sanzu trailed behind you like a little puppy. He fidgeted from one foot to another. You gestured at the top of the bathroom tops where the first aid kit lay, and he wowed, reaching up before he helped disinfect the cut and bandage it. Smelling the substance on him, you frowned and beat gently at his chest. “You should be more careful, Sanzu. I’m going to die worrying about you.”

“Em not that bad, babe...”

“Whatever,” you wiped your tears away with the fitted vest he wore, “I’m not in the mood to talk right now. You’re evicted to the couch until I get a replacement for that vase.”

MY REQUESTS ARE CLOSED. PLEASE DON’T SEND ME ANYTHING AFTER THIS :)

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joeystarkey · 2 years

Note

Could you do a smut imagine, about nate jacobs (if he wasn’t as of an asshole as he is on the show) with the reader. and the reader is fezcos sister and nate and the reader are trying not to get caught and end up getting caught. and fezco pretty much tries to pick a fight with nate? pretty please xo <33

I Will Wait | Nate Jacobs

warnings: 16+ smut, swearing, drugs, nate jacobs.

authors note: he’s still kind of an ass, really can't escape that. and i literally just imagined i was watching an episode of euphoria, and this is what i would think would happen if this scenario were to portray in euphoria

masterlist

Everyone knew Fezco was born into drugs. Ever since his grandma had taken him and invited him into the world of drugs at a very young age. His sister, though, wasn’t one to look up to her grandma. Ever since she was little she only ever saw the bad things in her. She noticed how she acted when she was high, how she would only show love and affection when she was drunk, how she had gone through so many men, even when a piece of her blowout wasn’t where it should.

As a child, Y/N just missed her mom. She missed anyone who gave her a motherly figure — ones she liked anyway. Either way, her grandma didn’t do that. If anyone at all gave her parental guidance, it was her brother Fezco. Even with Ash, she thought that Fezco was a great protector. And now, he was the most protective brother ever as Y/N continued to go to school, hoping to go to college.

Fez took note of the change of world that Y/N had ever since the first day of senior year. Freshman year, she became friends with Maddy, Cassie, Kat, and even Rue. She wasn’t anything special until junior year. Cassie turned on Y/N when her boyfriend at the time left her for Y/N as if she wasn’t crushing on McKay anyway. Maddy tried to stop being friends with Y/N but she really didn’t see anything wrong with it, she didn’t do anything at all. Maddy didn’t hang out with Y/N anywhere Cassie might see, but their friendship stayed strong.

Now, senior year, she had caught the eye of Nate Jacobs. Nate wasn’t the type of guy Y/N would date — let anyone be aloud to date. She thought that when she went back to school after New Year, Nate would hate her. Nate would try to take out his anger at Fezco onto her, knowing the denied rumors about Cassie and Nate’s abusive relationship. But he didn’t, something out that weirded out Y/N.

After a while, she noticed how much more Nate would put into talking to her, giving her his attention, giving her rides to and from school. Unfortunately, he was fucking Cassie. The girl who hated Y/N for something she didn’t even do.

Luckily, Maddy wasn’t speaking to Cassie, so if anyone was alone this time, it was her. Kat followed Maddy around like a dog, which means Y/N’s got Kat as well.

When Y/N sat in the first period, she noticed how Cassie never came into class, the desk completely open. The second period was no different. She had no idea why she was even looking for Cassie to come in, she just was.

Luckily for Y/N when she walked out of school, she found Nate sitting by the doors with an umbrella above his head as it poured down hard. She kept her head down, trying not to blush for Nate Jacobs. Nate stepped in front of her, and since she wasn’t looking where she was walking, her head softly collided into his tight, muscular chest.

“Need a ride?” Nathaniel asked in his deep voice. Y/N wondered if voice had a color, and if it did, she pictured it to be the beautiful color of his irises that had seen hell and back. Y/N shook her head, not feeling like digging herself deeper into a grave with Cassie.

“I can walk, I won’t melt,” Y/N snarled at Nate stepping into the cold rain as it fell harshly onto her North Face Zip-Up Fezco got her for Christmas.

Nate scoffed, “No, I’m driving you home.” Y/N stopped in her tracks, turning on her heels and facing him in the pouring rain.

“I’m fine, thank you. If you’re so worried about me, let me take the umbrella and I’ll be fine!” Y/N said, stepping closer to him. He was looking down at her with a sly smirk on his face, “And wipe that fucking smirk off your face.”

“Just let me drive you home, baby,” Nate pleaded. Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t want you to get sick,” Nate added before bringing his hand onto her face to rub his thumb across her cheek.

“I’m not letting you drive me home just so you can fuck me in your truck again, your girlfriend is probably at home waiting for you,” Y/N said leaning lightly into his hand. His fingers were soft, but Y/N figured it was because they were rubbing against the soft skin Cassie had so much. Or maybe because of her lotions?

“I’m not going to fuck you in my truck, just let me drive you home,” Y/N sighed, grabbing his hand that was put out for her to grab. Maddy would have to be so betrayed if she saw this go down, but she didn’t. Plus, after highschool, Y/N was leaving this town and never coming back, by herself or with her brothers.

Nate intertwined their fingers and they walked back to his gray truck that was on within a second of his keys turning them on, making sure it was warm by the time that they got into the truck.

Nate followed her to her side of the car, opening the door for her as she stepped in. Y/N didn’t even realize the door wasn’t shut yet until after she was done buckling. She found Nate staring at her, a small smile on his face (one that he would deny if it wasn’t for Y/N herself). “Nathaniel, I know for a fact your mother taught you it’s not nice to stare,” Y/N said grabbing his hand from her thigh.

He pursed his lips together and breathed deeply through his nose before bringing his lips to hers quickly before pulling away and walking to his side of the car. As he got in and sat down, Y/N’s arms were on the center console as she leaned over to him, hoping to connect their lips. Y/N regretted the words she said, she wanted him to fuck her in the back seat of his truck just so her lips could be on his.

“Mmm, I love cherries,” Nate said pulling away, recognizing the cherry chapstick on her lips. Y/N giggled, bringing her hand shoved her face, hiding the light pink tint on her face. She agreed never to let a boy see her blush when she was young, but she’d make exceptions for all the rules she told herself to follow as she watched her grandmother fuck them all up when she was little.

“Much, much, much, much better than the lemonade chapstick Cassie uses,” Y/N said. Nate laughed in agreement, bringing her in for a soft peck.

“Much better,” he mumbled against her lips. Nate wouldn’t admit it, but he would leave Cassie in a minute if Y/N asked him to, but she picked up on the rules she had.

The drive from school to the cheap apartment complex Y/N’s family lived in was short. But, it ended with a long swap of spits in the car outside the building's parking lot. Nate’s lips roughly pressed against hers, the two heads seemingly pushing back and forth as the pushed lightly against each other. Nate brought his left hand over to her right thigh, bringing Y/N off of her seat and onto his lap, pressing the steering wheel as she sat there. The car erupted in a honk, scaring both of them.

Y/N gasped, pulling away. Nate laughed causing Y/N to giggle and rest her forehead on his shoulder. “You know, I think my house might be empty, or maybe just Ash? Wanna try and sneak into my room?” Nate nodded and she got off of his lap and Nate began driving to the apartment.

She opened her car door and met Nate at the front of the truck, following behind Y/N as she brought them to her apartment. Nate’s only ever been inside once, and it wasn’t long. His father was in this house longer than he was, and we all know how that went.

As Y/N grabbed her key from inside the coins of her wallet, Nate looked around, for any sign that he should leave. Although he had a little tight feeling in his stomach about his, he was destined to give Y/N a much more intense and tighter feeling in her stomach before he would leave this place.

“Okay,” Y/N started, twisting the key in the lock before leaving it there before she looked up at Nate. “Fez might be home, so be really quiet. And make sure you take your shoes off now so he doesn’t notice two tracks of wet shoes on the carpet.”

Nate nodded, bending down and untying the laces of his Nike shoes before following her in and taking them off completely as she guided him to her room. Her room painted a light yellow shade (no change from when they moved in), posters of her favorite bands plastered onto the wall, and a bed in the corner. Nate let his mind wander so far as to think how much better her room would be when they get married and have babies.

Nate threw his shoes where Y/N lay hers, before bending out down bringing her lips to hers. She let out a small moan, one so quiet it had to be for herself only, but then he remembered Fezco might be home. He pulled back, “You’re gonna have to be really quiet, I don’t want to be beaten up by your brother right now,” Nate said as he bit into her neck, causing her to groan quietly.

“Yes, I know,” Y/N said.

“Alright then.”

Nate smiled before lifting his head and unzipping the green sweater that complimented the color of her eyes. Her Y/E/C eyes stared into his as he did so, taking the cold and wet material off of her body.

Next came her shirt, lifting the shirt off of her body followed by her beautiful blue lace bra that showcased her nipples through the paisley, sheer fabric.

Once her clothes were off, she got on top of him, ripping his loose shirt off of his body. His hair was all over his face, but even with that, he was truly perfect — on the outside.

She kissed her way down his chest, licking the birthmark quickly before she got down to her knees, feeling all over his crotch. He threw his head back, his mouth opening as she pulled down the zipper of the jeans he had on. Her tactic was teasing, moving slowly.

Once the jeans were at his ankles, it was the breathing that could get him. He could feel her breath on his erecting cock. His breath hitched as her fingers glided over his length. His eyebrows furrowed, tightening in his forehead. He watched as she watched his facial expressions from below him, enjoying him squirming for her. Not for Maddy, or Cassie — her.

“Yo Ash, when Y/N comin’ home?” Y/N and Nate heard Fez yell from outside of the room, Ash responded like a usual teenage boy.

“They think we’re not here, let’s keep it that way,” Y/N said as she continued to tease him.

“Put your fucking mouth on my dick and stop talking before I shove it down there so you can’t speak at all,” Nate threatened, brushing a hand over her hair, guiding her head closer to his crotch. She smiled and obeyed, pulling the boxer-briefs off of him completely.

She licked his length from his balls all the way to his girth before putting it in her mouth. Nate loved watching the way her eyelashes would flutter when she looked up at him quickly, as well as the way her cheeks would hollow inside and let his cock disappear in her mouth. Nate sucked air in his mouth, “Ah, fuck,” He moaned out.

Her lips let go of his cock with a pop, “Am I better than Cassie?” She knew the answer though. He didn’t answer, he just grabbed his shaft and brought it to her lips. She dodged it, just like he was the question. “Answer me, tell me that I’m better than Cassie.”

“You’re better than Cassie, baby. So much better,” She smiled as he groaned. She brought her lips back around his cock, sucking harshly bringing his head up and down. She tried to go deeper every time, gagging every once in a while.

When she got down as far as she could, his cock twitched, and she shook her head a bit to go down even more. Soon, he was bursting his first load down her throat, causing her to pull off. She held back coughs and swallowed the load as best as she could, trying not to show the disgusting feeling on her face.

“Bend over, baby,” He started, “I know you love this position, good thing I do too.” Nate admired her spread apart ass cheeks below him, giggling a bit every time she moved. He brought his hand back and lightly hit her cheek, causing a slapping sound to fill the room, she held back moans, worried the sound grabbed enough attention. She dug her face into the mattress, trying to stay quiet as he slid his cock right into her. He slid into her so swiftly, their slick mixing together amazing.

His hips rocked into hers, quickly but not too quickly the bed or the bed frame to band against the wall. Y/N moaned out, her mouth opening wide, a moan caught in her throat. Nate was holding back some profanities too, trying his best to keep quiet. His nose scrunched up, jaw going slack as he went against his gut and went rougher. The bed began to lightly hit the wall, “Nate,” Y/N tried to moan out quietly, trying to warn him. He couldn’t hear though, the light clapping, pounding, and thoughts in his head being too loud.

He had sweat covering his face, as well as his chest and legs. “Gonna cum,” she moaned from below, bringing him one step closer to the edge. He looked down, bringing his hands to her hips, bringing her back into him, causing them both the release quiet moans at the same time.

Fez got a bit worried by the pounding sounds, wondering if it was Rue at the door. His feet carried him to the room where Ashtray was watching the cameras around the house, watching Faye take the trash out. “Yo, who’s outside the door?”

Ash laughed, “Nah, bro. I think it’s Eddy and one of his girlfriends next door,” Fezco understood. Taking his steps back out of the room, a faint ‘Nate’ heard. “Well, never mind. Do we have a neighbor named Nate?”

It all clicked like a puzzle for Fez. No matter how high he was right now, he noticed the wet footprints, why her door was closed rather than cracked, why there was a nice car out in the parking lot full of junky ones. Nate Jacobs was here, and to Fez, he’s asking for another beating.

Fezco opened the door, finding Nate pulling out and cumming all over her back while Y/N brought a blanket over her chest, hearing the door creaking. “Fez,” she said, really trying to warn Nate.

“Huh?” He looked over, “Oh, shit.”

“Fucking my lil sister huh? Gonna choke her out like you did Maddy Perez?” Fezco asked while Nate jumbled and got his clothes on. “Rue told me what you did to her, did you know your Dad fucked Jule?”

Nate gulped, watching Fez take steps into the room. “It’s not what it looks like—”

“It looks like your fucking my lil sister, don’t you have a girl, man? Is that not what's happenin’?” Ash stood in the doorway now, his eyebrow raised as he watched everything go down in front of him.

“Leave my house,” Fezco said before following Nate out of the house to make sure he wouldn’t find somewhere to stay. Or, we’ll, that’s what Y/N thought. But when she heard the sounds of groans and hitting, she quickly threw on a robe and followed them, finding Fez on top of Nate, absolutely beating the shit out of him.

“Fez, get off!” She pulled him off by the collar of his shirt, noticing the tears in her eyes. If it weren’t for those, he probably would have continued until he was dead. “I’m 18, Fez! I can do things myself, you know. Just because Grandma is gone doesn’t mean I need protection anymore!”

Nate was wiping a hand over his face, blood covering his hand, “Nate,” she whispered, falling to her knees helping him while Fez brought Ash out of the room “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he was going to do that.”

He scoffed, “Yeah, whatever.”

“Nate, I really am sorry. I’ll never let him do that again. He knows that’s I've had bad experiences with guys like you, okay? He’s just trying to look out for me,” Y/N said, kissing his shoulder before looking into his eyes, disregarding the blood covering his face elsewhere.

“You’re alright, he’s gonna need time to warm up to, but that’s alright. I’ll wait for you, anything for you.” He said kissing her lips, softly.

Y/N smiled, “Go home now, If Cassie asks where you were you were at a gym, okay?”

“I might not answer her calls, you're what I really want.”

“Another day, maybe. But I cant, with Fez right now.”

“I told you, I’ll wait.

#nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs #euphoria hbo #euphoria s2 #euphoria season 2 #rue bennett #hbo euphoria #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs x y/n #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years

Text

Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

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gingersnaaps · 3 years

Text

tetraphobia

maybe seijoh's revenge doesn't always have to be on the court. maybe seijoh's revenge can come in the form of fucking kageyama's sweet little girlfriend.

wc: 3.3k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, noncon, gangbang, mindbreak, victim blaming/guilt, forced infidelity, hints of sadism, anal, double penetration, deepthroat, cunnilingus, sorta overstim? idk this is very nasty, fem!reader with inner genitals, timeskip!characters

a/n: this is for @somecravings' gangbang collab! this work features the seijoh four.

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

“I wonder where Tobio-chan found himself such a cute girlfriend.”

The words freeze you in your tracks.

A tall, well-built, man leans against the wall of the hotel hallway, the cramped space making him loom large in front of you. You think he’s a stranger at first - but a closer look at the waves of his chestnut hair, his molten hazel eyes - and memories of the pictures Tobio had shown you flood back into your mind.

Oikawa Tooru, he’d told you. Teammates at Kitagawa Daiichi, and then rivals at Karasuno and Aoba Johsai. I took away his last chance to make it to nationals in high school. Now he’s on Argentina’s national team. Looked up to him a lot, but we had a… strained relationship.

His eyes flicker back to the faded yearbook photos, an unmistakable note of bitterness in his voice.

The very same Oikawa Tooru from his pictures stands in the hallway leading to your hotel room, arms crossed and eyes glittering with amusement.

Almost as if he’d been waiting there for you.

“He’s out celebrating his win, isn’t he?” he says, cocking his head to one side. “Along with the rest of his team.”

He steps closer, walking towards you until he’s mere feet away. You can see where the hem of his blue jersey peeks out from beneath his jacket, the white of his teeth glinting as he grins. Up close, he’s even more intimidating, and you suppress the sudden surge of discomfort that crawls beneath your skin.

Your eyes flit back and forth, eyebrows creasing in confusion. “Is there something you need?”

“Yes,” he says, his hand reaching out to stroke gently along your cheek. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor, sweetheart.”

Panic seizes you when his cold, calloused, fingertips brush lightly along your skin, your heart thudding as discomfort rips through your body. You don’t know what his intentions are, but his words scare you. There’s nothing genuine about his tone, nothing kind, and years of too-close encounters with men have left you wary and alert. His touch is invasive, contemptuous, mocking, and you jerk away from his hand in an attempt to backpedal-

Warm hands clamp down around your shoulders in an iron grip. Your heart sinks as you realize you’ve got nowhere to go, dread seeping into every vein in your body.

“I’m a little late. Sorry.”

The voice at your ear is a low rasp, his tone nonchalant, but you can hear the message that undercuts it as clear as day: you’re not going anywhere.

“Don’t worry about it, Iwa,” Oikawa says, fingers curling around your chin, tilting your face up forcefully until you’re staring directly into his eyes. “You got here just in time to help me out. She looked like she was about to run away for a while there. Can you imagine?”

The man behind you - Iwaizumi Hajime, you recall - chuckles. “Wouldn’t get very far.”

Your blood runs cold at the implication of his words. Your stomach churns, an awful, nauseous feeling that makes you feel sick, shoulders tensing as you struggle against Iwaizumi’s hold.

“Hey,” he warns quietly. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

His words almost make you want to laugh; he says them like he’s trying to help you, like he genuinely cares about your well-being. You remember the late-night talks you and Kageyama would have, the ones where he’d describe his days spent in middle school, secluded and walled off from the other players on his team. There was always one name he spoke with a particular reverence: Iwaizumi Hajime. Tough. Strong. Kind. A good man, he’d emphasized. I’m glad he was there during those years.

Well, this certainly was a reality check, wasn't it?

He removes his hands from your shoulders and wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you pressed close to his side, as if a reminder of you how powerless you are in this position. “Come on, baby,” he says. “Let’s go.”

“It’d be rude to keep Makki and Mattsun waiting any longer."

Oikawa slides his fingers into yours until the two of you are holding hands, humming happily as Iwaizumi escorts you down the hall towards your own hotel room. It takes every last ounce of self-control to stop yourself from crying and screaming on the spot, to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over, to save yourself the embarrassment of breaking down pathetically as these people - these assholes - watch.

You get the feeling that they’re not going to leave you alone out of pity.

They escort you to your hotel room, passing by rows and rows of rooms that blur as your vision tunnels. Their presence is suffocating; Oikawa’s fingers brush against your wrist, rubbing tender circles into your skin, and you can feel Iwaizumi's warm breath on the crown of your head.

Oikawa grabs the key card from your purse, sliding it into the scanner, and pushes the door open when it lights up green.

Your heart stills with fear as they drag you inside, flicking the light switch open until the room glows softly.

There’s two more people sitting in the bed.

A tall, lanky man waves in acknowledgement, nudging his companion in the side as his eyes flicker appraisingly over you.

The other man looks up, tossing his phone aside, blowing aside a stray strand of strawberry-pink hair.

“Hmm. I hate to say this, but Oikawa was right,” he says, a wry grin on his face. “What a pretty girl.”

You feel so vulnerable with four pairs of eyes roaming over every inch of your body, your mind running rampant with fear and anticipation as they admire and scrutinize. And you’d be right to be scared, because there’s so much they can’t wait to do, so much of you they’ve been dying to explore, so many of their little fantasies that they’ve been waiting for the right girl to help them act out.

You’ll help them out, won’t you?

Without warning, there’s a pair of hands on your waist insistently pushing you downwards, applying steady pressure until your legs collapse and you’re forced to your knees.

“So impatient, Iwa.” Oikawa clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You won’t even let her get settled in?”

There‘s a huff of annoyance above you. “The more you talk, the less I’m going to enjoy this.”

“Alright, alright.”

Oikawa slides a hand onto the back of your neck, the other moving to grip your hair. His touch is gentle, fingers stroking along your pulse point, but you know it won’t last if you misbehave. You have no illusions about the kind of person he is, not when his hands maneuver your mouth and throat into nothing more than a warm fleshlight for his friend.

Iwaizumi palms himself in front of your face, hands skimming over the bulge in his jeans as he groans in pleasure, and pulls out his half hard cock, veins throbbing and flushed with arousal. Cupping your face in his hand, he fits the tip to your soft lips and tilts your chin upwards to meet his piercing, lust-filled eyes, his gaze swirling with want.

“Open up for me like a good girl, okay?” he growls.

You can’t help the way your cunt pulses at his tone, an intoxicating rush of fear and desire that leaves your mind hazy and mouth dropping open. He doesn’t waste the opportunity, pushing his cock into your warm, wet, mouth, a moan falling from his lips as he thrusts his hips forwards. You retch at the intrusion, instinctively jerking your head backwards, but Oikawa’s grip on your neck tightens as he holds you in place. He crouches down, lips finding your ear as Iwaizumi starts sliding in and out of your mouth.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “If you take it like you’re supposed to, he won’t last too long.”

At those words, his hands push your head forward, impaling your throat on his cock, holding you down as you choke and drool and retch. Your eyes redden as silvery tears drip through your lashes, panic rising, vision turning to static, the pain in your lungs growing unbearable as Oikawa’s smile turns razor sharp. “Atta girl,” he encourages softly, his thumb wiping away one of the tears running down your cheek. “I think he’s gonna cum soon if you keep this up.”

If you keep this up. As if you have a choice.

Iwaizumi’s thrusts grow more erratic, fucking you rougher and faster as he slams in and out of your throat. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “Such a good fucking girl for me. Got such a - such a perfect little mouth, taking me so well,” he says, breath catching.

Just like Oikawa had predicted, he doesn’t last much longer after that, hips stuttering when he spills down your waiting throat. He tastes warm and slightly salty, the last few drops of his cum dripping down your chin as he presses a thumb to your lips and wipes away the drool collecting at the corner.

There’s a horrible, sinking, feeling settling inside you as he grabs the collar of your shirt and hoists you up with him onto the bed, your limbs going limp as you let him press an open-mouthed kiss to your trembling lips, his tongue slipping inside of your slack mouth.

You feel used.

Up close to Iwaizumi, you can see the flush of arousal coloring his bronzed cheeks, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, all the physical evidence of just how good you made him feel, and your stomach churns.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel fingers softly stroking at your clit, light, teasing strokes back and forth that leave you whimpering. A twinge of arousal pulses in your cunt as you hear words murmured against your inner thigh.

“Didn’t even try to fight back, did you?” There’s a gentle laugh from the pink-haired man beneath you, soft and terrifying, and the light brushes turn into more insistent circles. “It’s almost like you wanted it.”

Iwaizumi’s tongue curls deeper into your mouth as he deepens the kiss, leaving you gasping for breath.

“I had no idea you’d turn out to be such a slut,” he hums, mouth latching onto your thigh. “Although I’m really not complaining.”

“C’mon, Makki, don’t be so mean to her,” Iwaizumi chuckles, his teeth scraping roughly against your lips.

“I’m only telling the truth.”

The fingers circling your pussy creep upwards, grabbing onto your hips and pushing you down against the mattress. “Keep those legs spread nice and open for me, okay?” Makki says, voice sweet and cloying.

When the flat of his tongue brushes against your clit, his breath huffing warm on your folds, your thighs twitch involuntarily. It’s as if he’s made it his mission to eat you out as slow and light as possible, his kitten-licks and teasing strokes sliding along your folds and circling around your sweet spots without ever truly giving you the satisfaction that your cunt craves.

And he can tell you’re starting to break.

As Iwaizumi’s mouth moves down to suck at your neck, lips brushing along the erratic heartbeat of your pulse point, your hips jerk upwards against Makki’s waiting mouth as a moan slips out from between your lips.

He sucks at your aching clit, the steady, constant pressure making you writhe in his grasp. “Cute little cunt wants more, doesn’t i?” he coos.

You don’t dare say a word, face flushed with embarrassment as you bite your inner cheek in embarrassment. Makki’s right.

He’s right, and you hate that he’s right, hate how good he’s making you feel with every long, languid, lick, with every brush of his lips that leaves your walls throbbing in search of more.

A hand picks up your limp wrist, guiding your fingers until they wrap around something warm and hard, something incredibly thick and so, so, long -

You freeze as you realize it’s a cock.

“Mattsun’s blessed, isn’t he?” Makki laughs from between your thighs. “Maybe now you’ll understand that I’m really trying to do you a favor. We want these sheets stained with cum, not blood.”

You swallow nervously. That monster cock, so big you can barely fit your hand around it, is going inside you.

You’re paralyzed with dread, not even bothering to fight back as he maneuvers your palm up and down along his length, wrapping his much larger hand around yours as he uses your fist to help jerk him off.

All the revulsion in the world can’t stop the slow, mounting, wave of pressure building inside your core, growing stronger as Makki sucks with more force against your clit. Crooked fingers push inside your slick, needy, hole, his nimble digits searching and prodding, the pads of his fingertips rubbing insistently at your g-spot.

“See?” he murmurs. “‘m making you feel so good. You’re gonna be nice and ready when I’m done with you.”

You want to scream. You feel like a whore for enjoying anything at all; bile and guilt rising in your throat as white-hot arousal throbs in your cunt.

You’re strung out along the edge when you feel another mouth descending on your body, a tongue flicking out to tease at your nipple. You see a flash of chestnut brown hair as Oikawa looks up at you, a smirk curving at the corners of his mouth, almost as if he knows exactly what he’s doing, knows where your limits are and how to push right past them.

It’s too much for you to handle, too much for you to take. Three mouths ravage your body, tongues flicking out to lick at your neck and suck at your nipples and drag along your clit, silky and sensual against your soft skin, all while your slack hand pumps steadily along the shaft of a huge cock.

When an orgasm rips through your body, it’s like something stolen, something taken from you, and as your hips buck and thrash wildly, an emptiness settles in your stomach after you’re all fucked out from their ministrations.

What’s wrong with you?

At this point, you don’t feel like much more than a sex doll for the four men, all spread out and useless as you lay your head in Iwaizumi’s lap. He strokes gently at your hair, brushing a stray strand out of your face.

You barely even react as Mattsun manhandles you up, large hands positioning your hips until the head of his fully hard cock sits at your entrance, sliding just the tip into your loosened, clenching, hole.

“Ready?” he asks, his half-lidded eyes glinting with amusement.

He doesn’t really care about your answer.

“One… two… three.”

He forces you down on his cock, pushing your hips further and further down as you squirm and struggle and moan from the stretch. Your mind goes foggy as you feel the drag of his cock against the front of your walls, burying itself so deep in your cunt you can almost feel it in your stomach.

Mattsun likes it when his dick makes girls feel good, of course, when he fucks them better than their boyfriends, when he makes them cream and gush after barely moving.

He likes it better when he makes girls go stupid.

As he looks down at you, a warm rush of arousal twists in his gut. Your eyelids flutter in pleasure, mouth open and panting, small hands fisting at his shirt as you moan softly. It’s just too big for you to take, isn’t it? You can't handle being used like a pretty fuckdoll, or eaten out until you cream, or to be impaled on a cock so nice and big you can barely think straight. A string of drool falls from the corner of your mouth, but he doesn’t bother cleaning it up. You look better ruined, he thinks.

You’re dragged out of your fucked-out daze when a voice crawls into your ear, taunting and cruel, and a warm dick presses and slides along your ass.

“Bet Kageyama’s never tried this before,” Oikawa says.

A spurt of terror grips you as you hear the thinly-veiled anticipation in his voice, his fingers trembling with excitement as they grope at your ass.

He holds back a laugh at the way you freeze, shuddering in a mixture of fear and pleasure as Mattsun rolls his hips up and thrusts his cock even deeper. He knows he guessed right, judging from your cute little reaction, a high-pitched, pathetic whimper dropping from your lips as brushes his cock against your hole.

He hopes it hurts.

When he presses in, it’s a slow, aching, stretch that leaves you feeling raw and split wide open. Unlike the dull pain from Mattsun’s cock, this one is a searing, brutal, torment, a stinging intrusion in your tight hole that forces a choked gasp from your lungs.

“Wish your boyfriend could see us right now,” he breathes, pressing a gentle kiss to the crook of your neck. “Feels so good squeezing my cock, so fucking nice and tight.”

Tobio.

Panic races along your veins. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, breasts bouncing slightly as your breaths come shallow and rapid.

“I can’t imagine how he’d feel - seeing his perfect little angel getting stuffed so full in both her precious holes.”

The tightness in your chest bursts as tears stream down your face, cries and moans coming out thick and stuffy as you sob. You know he’s right. It didn’t matter that it was forced, that you said you didn’t want it - you already came once, didn’t you? And judging by the tense pleasure pulsing at your clit, you were due for another sooner or later.

Oikawa laughs. “It’d be awful if he came back right now, wouldn’t it? Just in time to watch his precious little girlfriend getting raped by his former senpai.”

Mattsun snickers, bring a hand up to swipe at your clit. “Look,” he says softly, tilting your head until you lock eyes with Makki.

He’s fisting his cock rapidly, a hungry, predatory, expression on his face, tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he lets out a pleasured groan.

It’s better than almost any of his gross little fantasies. He’s not sure his favorite porn videos will ever be able to compare to the sight of you being fucked stupid and split in two by his friends, two cocks sliding in and out of your tired holes as you cry.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the first waves of the orgasm begin to roll over you. Mattsun’s deft, long, fingers toy with your clit, stroking you insistently through the wild jerking of your hips as he feels your walls fluttering and creaming around the base of his dick. The pleasure is intense, unbearable, almost impossible to hold back, even as disgust crawls beneath your skin at the feeling of being stretched wide open.

Maybe they were right.

All those times you’d thought about what you’d do if this happened, every single night when you’d lie awake and tell yourself, i’ll fight back. i’ll resist. i’ll make them regret ever forcing me -

They were all lies.

Oikawa feels a sick sense of satisfaction as he watches the turmoil in your expression. He can tell by the slump of your shoulders, the bitterness in your gaze, the way you turn over to your side and curl up into a fetal position - they broke you, turned you into a mindless, slutty, fuckdoll, showed you who you really were.

Kageyama can have you back now. He’ll come into this hotel room, horrified at the sight of you passed out and naked, and call the police. Maybe he’ll help wash you up, bring you a cup of tea as you sob and insist that it wasn’t your fault. Maybe he’ll even believe you, despite the way you’ve stained the sheets.

But things won’t ever really be the same for you.

They made sure of it.

if you liked this, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! my inbox is always open :)

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Affection

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Y/N decidedly hate each other. But when a near-death experience puts one of them in a coma, their mutual hatred might have to take a backseat— Or will it? Category: Angst / Happy Ending! + Humor and a lil bit of Fluff Content: Strong language, Reader is in a coma, mentions of injury, kissing Word Count: 2.6k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This one’s for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) September Writing Challenge, Enemies To Lovers! I have another one coming up as well, but this idea wouldn’t get out of my head ever since I watched The Abyss with my dad and I had to get it out 😅 I hope you like it!!

———

I swear to fucking God, if this motherfucker really thinks he—

That was the last thing Y/N thought before she was knocked out cold.

With her line of work, it was natural to assume that she was thinking about the unsub, but unfortunately the criminal she and her team were tracking down was the farthest thing on her mind. Spencer would have chastised her for it— letting something else cloud her thoughts while she was in a dark alley, alone, and with a serial killer on the loose.

"You should be smarter than that!" she could hear him say in that high pitch he always carried when he was upset— especially with her. "If you don't get yourself killed one of these days, then it'll be the rest of us!"

Thinking about it made her blood boil.

"It's your fault," she wanted to tell him. "I had to blow off some steam because you were pissing me off!"

The only thing was... She couldn't tell him.

Well... She could.

He just couldn't hear her, because no one could.

It was like some stupid, cliché movie, where you found yourself standing over your dying body and having to choose whether to live or not. It seemed like the obvious choice, to fucking live, but... Y/N found herself wandering around her hospital room, yelling into the void and attempting to jump back into her own body.

Nothing was working.

And when Spencer showed up, his face red and his hair and clothes all messed up, she wanted to scream at him.

"Hey!"

Nothing. He was practically lifeless as he drifted to the chair next to her bed and sat down. It was nearly impossible to read from his expression and body language how he was feeling, and that alone was enough to make her angry again. (Not that the anger had really gone away since waking up next to her comatose body, of course.)

"Hey! Dumbass!"

Still nothing.

As Spencer just blankly stared down at Y/N's bed, she decided she'd had enough.

"SPENCER FUCKING REID, IF YOU DON'T HELP ME RIGHT NOW I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL HAUNT YOUR ASS UNTIL THE END OF ETERNITY, AND I'M GONNA LAY FAT, STINKIN' GHOST SHITS IN YOUR SHOES, DO YOU HEAR ME? AND—"

"I hate you."

It was a bold enough statement to stop Y/N in her tracks, no matter how quietly he'd mumbled it. She knew for sure that he didn't like her, after years of constant bickering and dirty glares and whatever else, but... The word 'hate' was like a knife that sliced through her joking rage and stopped the whole world around her.

If she wasn't already out of her own body, she just knew she would have felt her soul leave.

Spencer didn't hate anyone. Not that she was aware of, anyway. He found nearly everyone delightful, and vice versa... But for some reason, he hated Y/N.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Yeah, well... Feeling's mutual, I guess..."

"You're stupid, and reckless, and you don't think. And you're a goddamn nightmare to work with... You know what— You're a stone-cold bitch."

His words made her physically step backwards, and it felt like if she were a cartoon, there might have been steam coming out of her ears.

"Yeah, well jokes on you, you make it easy," she seethed. "Fuck you!"

"How... How dare you..." he continued, anger reddening his face.

Y/N watched as he balled his fists and leaned in a little closer to her body, his voice tight and strained. "How dare you walk into my life and boss me around and make it impossible to breathe... From the moment I met you, you've brought out this... this fire in me that I can't put out no matter how hard I try, and it's insufferable—You're insufferable, and I hate you, how dare—"

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a shortness of breath. Spencer breathed in, loud and choked, and the next breath he let out was nothing short of a sob. His eyes squeezed shut, tears rolling down them and his hands clutched the bedsheets with a vigor and rage that Y/N had never seen from him, even in all the years she'd spent visibly getting on his last nerves.

"N—No," she choked out, feeling her throat tighten. "Don't... Don't turn into a sappy mess on me now, do you hear me, Reid? You hate me, don't... Don't..."

"I don't hate you," he whispered, wiping his eyes and reaching out to grab her lifeless hand. "I hate that you make me feel this way, but... I could never hate you..."

She wanted nothing more than to be able to squeeze his hand back, to tell him, not even necessarily with words but with a simple gesture, that she was right there and wasn't going to go anywhere.

She just... had to figure out how to make that true.

Still, Spencer kept going, a small laugh bubbling up through tears and phlegm. "But I will hate you if you die, because I just know you're gonna come back and haunt me for eternity... Probably... shit in my shoes or something."

Y/N barked a laugh that was true and pure... Happy, even.

The genius may have acted like he hated her, but it turns out he knew her pretty well, perhaps even fondly in one way or another.

To think— All those years she spent seeing him sneer at her, feeling his glare burn into her soul, the amount of times she caught him making faces or inappropriate gestures behind her back, all of it... And the whole time, he was probably doing it with a little flicker of fondness deep within the confines of his heart, which he swore to fill with nothing but hatred for her.

The thought made the little flicker in her own heart burn brighter.

As she wandered closer to her bed, beside Spencer and in front of her own body, she reached her hand out to see if she could touch his face, to give him something...

Even though she had no luck, something shifted when he spoke.

"Just... Come back to me, please? I know I'm not good at apologizing, but if it means I get you back... I swear that I will make up every horrible thing I've ever done or said to you. Just... Please don't leave me."

He laid his head down in his hands and tried not to cry again, every said horrible thing replaying on a loop in his brain like some kind of taunt. He wished more than anything for a chance to make it up to Y/N, and now he might not ever be able to.

"You think I'd leave this mortal earth without getting the chance to kick your ass?"

Everything was so fuzzy and light and brimming with these high emotions that Y/N almost didn't realize she was saying these words and Spencer was hearing them. She almost didn't feel the warmth of her bloodstream beneath layers of skin, the beat of her heart slowly coming back to life at the sounds and smells of the hospital room.

She almost didn't realize that Spencer was grabbing her now, his warm hands covering her cold ones and bringing them back to life as well.

"Screw you," he breathed with absolutely no malice to be detected in his voice.

They shared a smile so bright, no one would have been able to guess that they never got along.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Not only was she stuck at home doing nothing while on suspension (Yes, it turns out that storming off into an alley and not paying attention while on the job, just because a co-worker pissed you off, can get you suspended by Chief Strauss), but Y/N was also being visited by a daily rotation of her co-workers and friends and family, and her house was nearly covered in flower bouquets and baked goods.

It was a nightmare.

The sentiment was nice, sure, but if she had to move one more vase, she was going to start throwing them.

God, maybe Spencer was right, I am a stone-cold bitch...

Thinking of him also put a little damper on her mood.

He hadn't been to visit her once... And she figured that after their nice little moment at the hospital, he'd at least stop by with flowers or an "I'm glad you're not dead!" call, but there was nothing on his end. Not even a text message or a letter.

But for all she knew, their small moment of kindness could have been a figment of her concussed imagination.

Please, she thought, if I brought it up to him he'd probably just laugh in my face.

Rather than a laugh, Y/N heard the bright sound of her doorbell, which normally would have meant a fun unexpected visit or a date she was getting ready for, but by now it only meant another vase of flowers or a pie from a neighbor she still didn't remember the last name to.

Either way, she answered the door with as polite a smile as she could muster, and instead of finding a vaguely familiar neighbor or acquaintance, she found Spencer.

Though, to be fair, he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Well, this is a surprise," Y/N drawled, crossing her arms. "I don't even think you've ever been to my house."

She was surprised to see him nervous around her, rather than irritated. And she would have found it endearing had they not been practically mortal enemies from the moment they met... She was suspicious.

"O—Oh, yeah... I know, I just thought... I wanted to come see how you were doing... These are for you."

He held out the flowers, which were truthfully the pretties set she'd received, and it irked her. Because of course he of all people would be the one to tell which kinds of flowers she'd prefer.

"Thanks," she said, taking them from him and allowing him the space to come inside. "Watch out, it's a maze in here..."

While she looked for somewhere to put the flowers on display, she could feel Spencer looking around her space, probably profiling what he could behind a sea of flowers.

"Hm."

Y/N sighed. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just... I'm surprised this many people actually like you."

Despite the nature of his observation, she found it comforting. That level of playful contempt was what she was used to, and it brought a sparkle to her eye as she turned to face him. "Ha... I'm not a complete bitch, you know."

"Sure."

Between the growing grin on his face and the smirk forming on her own, Spencer and Y/N found themselves falling back into a familiar rhythm. And yet, something about it was still... different.

So much so that Y/N felt honest-to-God butterflies in her stomach when he approached, hands retreating from his pockets and head tilting off to the side. His expression held that look he got when he was trying to figure someone out, usually an unsub. She hated to admit it to herself, but a little part of her always found that side of him extremely attractive.

And now that it was right in front of her?

She didn't know what to make of it.

"What?" she snapped, looking for an excuse to hide any and all attraction she was feeling.

Spencer stepped back a little, breaking away from whatever trance he'd just been in. "God, why do you always have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"You push away every single show of affection! Any time I'm trying to be nice, you just act like it's some big inconvenience to you!"

Y/N laughed. "Ha! That's what that was? Just now? When you insulted me, and then started stalking towards me with that look you get when you're interrogating an unsub? That's what you call affection?"

"That's not... That's not what that was!"

"Oh really? Then what was it?"

"It was part of the routine! Banter! Y—You know, that's our thing! We insult each other, and we act like we hate each other but we... We don't, really..."

The longer he went on, the faster her heart raced. This was the moment in the movie where he inevitably blurted out that he loved her, and in turn she would either kiss him or slap him, or slap him and then kiss him...

But Y/N was still feeling rather playful despite the swarm of butterflies in her stomach begging for some relief.

"Oh?" she prompted, taking a slow step closer to him. "We don't?"

Spencer seemed to get red immediately, and he avoided her eyes. "U—Uh... Well I... I thought... Maybe I read it all wrong, a—and I'm sorry if I did..."

She'd been getting closer meanwhile, and now they were practically toe-to-toe. He did his best to ignore her, taking a few steps back until she cornered him against the front door. And with the way he wasn't doing anything to get out of his predicament, she took that as his acceptance and took another leap.

"What..." she cooed, crawling her fingers up the front of his chest like a spider. "You like me? Hmm?"

When he finally looked down at her, she allowed herself to smile, albeit slowly and with calculation.

In a flash Spencer went from nervous to fed-up, weight seeming to visibly lift from his chest as he sank against the door. "You're messing with me..."

"It's so fun."

"You know what, screw you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Maybe it is. What are you gonna do ab—"

She didn't let him finish.

In an instant, Y/N lunged forward and pulled him down for a kiss.

Even though she thought he might have tried to take control of the situation, he ended up surprising her with a wanton moan as his hands clutched at her sides, holding on for dear life. Their bodies and tongues collided in a mess of years worth of pent-up tension, chaotic and wild and fiercely beautiful in a way that put even the greatest first kisses to shame.

And of course, Spencer had to go and ruin it.

He pushed her away and looked almost panicked. "W—Wait, are you even cleared to do this?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, reaching out for him again. "I'm fine."

"Y/N, you were in the hospital! I thought... I thought you were..."

She appreciated the sentiment, but with her entire body on fire from his touch, she decided she needed more of it. "Yeah, but I'm not... I'm very much alive, and you know what?"

He blinked back at her, watching carefully as she leaned in close to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"It's because of you. You make me feel... more alive than I've ever been."

"And... You're not messing with me this time?"

With a laugh, Y/N shook her head and leaned up to brush her nose with his. "Nuh-uh... But if you'd like to, I'd love to mess with you in a more fun way. And maybe I'll even let you do it back..."

Spencer hummed, feeling himself gravitate towards her more with every passing second. "Deal."

He barely got the word out all the way before she was dragging him through the maze of flora and contained food and into her bedroom, where piece by piece, their hatred and fondness for one another combined to create the most exquisite of nights.

———

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v-hope · 3 years

Text

Sweet Night

Pairing: Artist!Taehyung x Heiress!Reader, Heir!OC x Reader

Genre: Fluff (yes, only fluff today, enjoy), Ex Roommates AU, Enemies to Lovers AU, Arranged Marriage (Heir!OC x Reader)

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Neither you nor Taehyung were expecting you to show up to his art exhibition, let alone when everyone was already gone, for the two of you were well aware that you didn’t have much of a choice when it came to attending your possible future husband’s charity event instead. Then again, neither of you were counting on your brother and sister in law to take your side and drive you all the way over to him so you could surprise him before the day was over.

A/N: Helloo! This is part 24 of my Social Media AU “Belong”, but you can read it as a stand-alone one shot if you want! I would like to make a shout out to my 🇫🇮 anon for giving me the Jimin idea (you know which one, I changed it a bit to make it fit the story better, but still). I hope you guys enjoy!

Looking away from the backseat’s window, your eyes focused on your trembling hands instead — the city lights as you passed them by being the only source of light as your brother drove through the streets of Seoul, which for some reason seemed to be extremely long that particular night.

The light music Miyoung had taken upon playing on the radio from the passenger seat, in an attempt to create a somewhat calm atmosphere for you and the nervousness she was sure you were feeling, had yet to make you actually calm down. If anything, you could feel your shaky hands become sweatier by the second as you felt a tingle of anticipation in your chest.

Although you wanted with everything in you to attend Taehyung’s art exhibition, you had got out of bed that morning being mentally prepared to spend the entire day at the Lee’s charity event.

You had been ready to spend most of the day with your parents pretending that everything in your relationship was alright, perfect even. You had been smiling for the cameras all day, greeting people you were sure were just pretending to have the perfect life as well, and being forced to make small talk with the ones who used to be your friends yet had turned their back on you as soon as they had found out you were choosing a more modest life over the luxurious one — the same so called friends of yours that had to keep quiet about your little secret if they didn’t want your parents to destroy their family’s business. After all, your family was with no doubt the most powerful one in Korea. And honestly? You couldn’t help but see it now as a curse, after having spent a lifetime believing it was a gift.

Not only that, but you had also spent most of the day next to Sungjin, lovingly posing for the cameras and holding hands, making you wish every single second it was Taehyung instead. You were sure that way it would’ve been more bearable. What you hated the most was the fact that you knew said pictures were being posted right away, meaning Taehyung would see them, and you hated the utter thought of having the man you had feelings for see you acting like a happy couple with someone else — even more after you had to cancel on him to attend an event with the one guy he had asked you not to bring with you to his art exhibition to begin with.

And yet, after having to endure all of that, here you were — a little over an hour after Taehyung’s exhibit was done, being driven over there by your brother and sister in law, while Jimin held him back at the gallery, and you not even knowing what you were supposed to say at all once you saw him. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this whole impromptu apparition of yours was a good idea at all. It had been a long day for him, you knew that for sure, and although he had told you earlier that day that he would’ve loved to have you there, maybe by this point he just wanted to go home and get some rest.

You didn’t have much more time to think about that, though, for just as you remained deep in your thoughts, Seokjin pulled up right in front of the address you had given him before. Looking up from your fidgeting hands, you were met by two pairs of eyes already focused on you.

“Do you want us to go with you?” Seokjin asked, hand on his keys, ready to pull them out at your command.

“Um…” you hesitated, leaning closer to the window as your eyes travelled around the rather isolated street in search of any paparazzis, finding yourself to be quite relieved when you saw none of them around. “Maybe just until I find Tae”.

They nodded, exchanging one last look before they made their way out of the car right as you did. Feeling the cold breeze of the night as soon as you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but hug yourself, sticking close to Jin and Miyoung as if you were a kid heading to school with her parents after being called by the principal.

Right as you were about to reach the entrance, however, Yoongi made his way out of the building, looking the other way before his eyes fell on all three of you.

“Hey,” he greeted, politely bowing his head, which you didn’t wait to reciprocate. “I came to see if you were anywhere near, Jimin is going crazy trying to come up with more excuses for Taehyung not to leave”.

You chuckled at his comment, imagining just how troubled your friend must have been. After all, and to be fair, you had taken a good while to get there. “Well, I’m here now”.

“That I can see” he sarcastically replied, eyes travelling from you to Seokjin, and then focusing on Miyoung. “Are you all coming in?” his eyes went back to you.

“Is it just the three of you inside?” your brother spoke up before you could nod. As far as he had understood, it should have been only Jimin and Taehyung inside.

“Oh, no” Yoongi denied. “Namjoon-ie is with us, too”.

“Namjoon?” Miyoung wondered, puzzled eyes going up to your brother. Given her reaction, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she knew what the rest of you didn’t when it came to those two.

Seokjin bit the inside of his cheek, giving her a knowing look before his eyes went back to Yoongi. “Actually, I, um… I just remembered Miyoung-ie and I have things to do, so…”

Although your sister in law looked troubled for a split second there, she wasted no time in nodding her head. Looking at Yoongi, she struggled to get the words out of her mouth. “W-We do! So, um…” her eyes focused on you. “We should probably leave. Is it okay?”

“Sure…”

“You’ll be okay?” she pushed it, earning a small laugh from you over his motherly ways.

“She’s in good hands” Yoongi reassured her, receiving a genuine smile from her that only caused his lips to part into one of his own as well.

“Okay” she sweetly replied, giving him a small nod as a sign of gratitude.

Seokjin playfully nudged her, grabbing her hand so the whole marriage thing could at least be a little bit more believable. “Shall we go then?”

“Mhm…” she replied.

“Call me when you’re done here” your brother demanded.

“Oh, I’m sure Taehyung will drive her home” Yoongi’s words got chills running up your spine.

“Okay,” Jin’s eyes travelled from Yoongi to you. “Call me when you’re home then”.

“I will” you obediently complied.

With that said, your brother and sister in law turned around, leaving you alone with Yoongi, who didn’t wait to motion towards the door for you to go inside.

“After you” he politely said.

You smiled, taking in a shaky breath before you took a step in. Suddenly all the nervousness you had felt on your way here came right back to hit you in the face, not knowing at all what to do once you were in front of the guy you had ditched the Lee’s event for — not even knowing how he would react at all, yet hoping he would be happy to have you there.

You didn’t get too much time to mentally prepare, for as soon as you entered the place being followed by Yoongi, you caught a glimpse of the backs of the other three men inside as they faced one of the many paintings that brought some life to the neutral white covering every single wall of the gallery. And it was a matter of you taking a few steps towards them for three pairs of eyes to be set on you. However, yours were only focused on one particular pair of them — those chocolate ones that displayed a mixture of surprise and pure happiness in them.

“You’re here?” Taehyung asked the obvious once you reached their side, causing his friends to chuckle in amusement.

“Seems like it…” you nervously managed to get out.

Silence took over as big smiles were plastered all over your faces — on yours and Taehyung’s, as the two of you were happy as hell to see each other, and on his friends, for they were having a blast watching the two of you awkwardly stand in front of one another with those dumb smiles of yours, not knowing what to do next.

“Come on,” Jimin chimed in, placing his hand behind your back and lightly pushing you towards Tae. “Your girl fooled her parents into coming here, the least she deserves is a hug”.

With a giggle escaping Tae’s mouth, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you when your body was about to collide with his. Feeling your heart going wild at the warmness of his touch, you wrapped your arms around his waist as well, resting your face on his chest and taking in his scent right as he lowered his head just enough to bury it in your neck.

“Thank you for coming” he mumbled.

A light chuckle abandoned your mouth, deciding to say nothing and instead just nod your head and wrap your arms tighter around his figure.

“Okay, I think this is our cue to go” Namjoon’s voice broke the comfortable silence you had fallen into.

“Yup” Yoongi agreed, patting Jimin’s back to catch his attention, as he was shamelessly taking pictures of the two of you to remember the moment his friends somewhat got together. “Let’s give the love birds some privacy”.

Nodding his head, Jimin shoved his phone back into his pocket — neither of them bothering to say goodbye not to kill the moment the two of you were sharing, and just quietly leaving the gallery instead.

Once you heard the front doors being closed, Taehyung pulled away, cupping your face in his warm hands and smiling at the sight of you. “I never thought seeing you would make me this happy”.

“Yah, Kim Taehyung” you called him out. “I’m sure you can be sweeter than that”.

He chuckled, rolling his eyes at how spoiled you had become when it came to him and his show of affection. “I’m happy you’re here, princess”.

You smiled, resting your hands over his and drawing small circles with your thumbs on his skin. “I’m happy I’m here”.

His smile turned sweeter somehow, lightly pressing his forehead on yours before a chuckle escaped his mouth and he amusedly shook his head.

“What is it?” you wondered.

“Nothing,” he laughed, pulling away and letting go of your face. “It just makes sense now why the guys were trying so hard to keep me here. Specially Jimin”.

“Was he losing it?” you laughed.

“Totally” he nodded. “He made me go over the whole exhibition again and explain each one of my paintings at least twice to him” his eyes travelled to one particular spot on the wall right next to the painting they had been admiring when you walked in. “When he ran out of pieces to ask me about he pointed at this small crack on the wall and asked me how I had come up with such a deep concept”.

This time, you couldn’t help but tilt your head back as a throaty laugh escaped your mouth — one that had Taehyung giggling, absolutely loving the sound of your laugh.

“He’s an idiot” you stated. “But he kept you here for me, so…”

“That he did” he smiled, biting his bottom lip as his eyes unconsciously travelled down your body — that pink dress of yours sure did look even better in person. “Aren’t you cold?”

Your eyes instinctively went down to your uncovered legs and then to your uncovered arms, remembering how you had hugged yourself outside minutes ago because of the cold air of the night. “It’s alright in here”.

He nodded his head. “My coat is by the entrance, in case you get too cold”.

You smiled sweetly, yet it didn’t wait to turn into what seemed more like a teasing smirk. “So you told me earlier today that you wished you had got to see me in this dress and now you want to cover it up?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes in amusement. “Don’t get me wrong, princess. I already told you I think you look beautiful and am most definitely enjoying the view right now” his bold words brought heat to your face. “I’m just looking after you”.

“How sweet of you” your sarcastic tone didn’t really match your flustered expression. “I’m okay for now. Will let you enjoy the view for a little longer”.

“How considerate of you” he was quick to follow your sarcastic antics, silently enjoying that particular choice of yours.

“I know, no need to say it” you playfully squinted your eyes at him, later taking a look at the whole gallery. “You think you could show me around?”

He nodded, a bright smile already taking over his face. “It will be my pleasure” his dramatism got a playful roll of eyes from you. “Where would you like to start?”

“This one is alright” you pointed out, moving closer to the painting you already had in front. “So,” you began, eyes tauntingly going to the crack next to his painting. “Tell me about how you came up with such a deep concept”.

“Shut up” he amusedly rolled his eyes.

“No, but seriously now” you smiled, this time staring at the piece of art in front of you. “Tell me about this one”.

Taehyung’s art, you had found out quite a while ago, tended to be on the abstract side. Therefore, it was even harder for you —or anyone for that matter— to interpret.

This one piece, just like the tag placed above it on the wall let you know, was called ‘Winter Bear’. You could clearly see the winter, the palette of colours he had used just screamed cold days and melancholy. Nevertheless, the bear mentioned in the title was nowhere to be found in the painting — instead, you managed to tell apart what you thought was a little boy, somewhat hidden in between all the colourful strokes surrounding his figure.

“That’s me” he pointed out when he could no longer deal with the confusion in your face, managing to draw your attention back to him.

“What?” your bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “What is the word ‘bear’ doing in the title then?”

He chuckled. “It’s art, you dork. You can name it anything you want”.

“I think it must mean something, though…”

Taehyung bit his bottom lip. Of course you would know better.

“That’s what my grandparents used to call me” he confessed.

You nodded quietly, understandingly — not really knowing what to say yet not wanting to stay silent. “You must miss them so much…”

“Sometimes,” he nodded. “I mean, not a day goes by in which I don’t miss them, it’s just that… it’s been years so… you kinda grow used to it” his shoulders moved up and down, in a shrug that tried not to make it seem like a big deal. “The whole exhibit was related to winter, so it naturally reminded me of them and how they used to call me, and… I guess I got too personal with this exhibition”.

You gave him a sweet smile of reassurance, reaching for his hand and holding it in yours. “It’s your art. It’s supposed to be personal”.

The boxy smile that he gave you right then was all it took for your heart to skip a beat, later taking in a shaky breath when he intertwined his long fingers with yours and his thumb drew small circles on the back of your hand.

Your eyes went back to the painting in front, trying your best not to let him know what his touch did to you. “I love it” you stated, much to his pleasure. “Love the way it seems to make no sense when you only read the title, yet it makes complete sense after you explain it”.

He smiled wholeheartedly. “I think it just makes no sense” his words had you furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “Not everyone is lucky enough to know the true meaning behind it”.

You giggled. “Lucky me then”.

“Lucky you” he agreed.

Tugging at his hand, you moved on to the next painting, and then the next one, and so on. Not a second had gone by in which you had let go of each other’s hand as you commented on the different paintings and the meanings behind each of them — the two of you finding yourselves having the time of your lives as you gave him your take on them and he confirmed whether or not it was what he had tried to portray.

That was what each of you liked about art so much, the fact that there was no wrong answer and you could discuss it so freely. Sure, he had something in mind the moment he painted each one of his pieces, but it was always fun to see what the rest of the people would feel when they looked at them.

And, for some reason, it was particularly enjoyable to him when it came to discussing art with you. So he had found out back when he invited you to one of his friend’s exhibits. It was different than talking about it with his friends, and he didn’t know if it was the fact that, unlike them, you actually knew about art, or just the fact that it was you.

Maybe both.

Tightening your hold on his hand when there were only four more artworks left, you moved on to the next one, having your jaw drop at the sight of it.

“Hey, this is the one I fixed” you blurted out in both surprise and excitement, unconsciously moving closer to it and dragging Taehyung with you so you could appreciate it better.

Although you were excited to see it there, you couldn’t help but feel your face heat up at the memories it brought back — the fact that you had collided with it and spilled coffee on it, still being both upsetting and embarrassing as hell.

You remembered quite well the way you had ran out in search of an art shop to find the necessary supplies to fix it before Taehyung could get home. Maybe you should have been faster. Not like that would’ve been of too much help, though, for whether you wanted to admit it to yourself or not, you knew very well he would’ve noticed something was off with his newest creation right away.

Looking at the different shades of blue and touches of yellow right then brought you back to that night you pulled an all-nighter, meticulously trying to recreate his painting — the hardest part being that you had only got to see it for a split second before the coffee that used to be on your —by then— broken mug had ruined it. You could only be thankful that it had been just a particular part of the painting and not all of it.

Staring into the picture, you had to stop yourself from reaching your hand out to it and trace your fingers over the pair of eyes you could tell apart in yet another one of his abstract works. You had not truly paid attention to them that one night you spent in Taehyung’s living room fixing his painting, for you had been way too invested in the details you had ruined. And you couldn’t help but feel relieved over the fact that the hot liquid had not touched the eyes he had so perfectly portrayed, for although they looked quite familiar somehow, you weren’t sure you would have been able to do any justice to them.

“I didn’t think you were actually displaying it” you mumbled after a few seconds, eyes still fixed on the painting.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he cocked one of his eyebrows. “Not to be that guy, but it’s quite good”.

“Yes,” you agreed in a heartbeat. “But you can tell one part of it is quite different to the rest of it”.

“You did a good job fixing it, princess” he recognized. “No one could really tell the difference”.

“I can tell” you mumbled.

Taehyung laughed under his breath. “Will you just look up to its title?”

Doing as told out of curiosity, your eyes darted up in a heartbeat — feeling them well up with tears when you read what the label above the artwork said.

“Sweet Night”, ft. Ariel.

Looking up to hold back the tears you felt so dumb for even having in the first place, you shook your head as the corners of your lips curved slightly up. “You did not just credit me after being the one to ruin it to begin with”.

“Hey, I wasn’t taking full credit over something I didn’t completely paint” he stated. “Plus, it’s smart, don’t you think? No one will ever know this Ariel person is no other than the infamous Kim Y/N”.

“You really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to” he stated.

You bit your bottom lip, no longer being able to hold back your smile and letting it part your lips like it had been threatening to. Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh under his breath over how adorable he thought you were, not even dreaming of stopping himself when he let go of your hand and placed his arm over your shoulders instead, pulling you closer to him as the two of you stared into the artwork in front.

“Why ‘Sweet Night’?” you wondered, leaning your head on his body.

He shrugged. “It’s silly”.

“Come onnn,” you pouted, pulling slightly away so you could look at him. “Out of all the paintings here, you can’t leave out the explanation to this particular one”.

Taehyung sighed, knowing well enough that, one, you were right, and, two, you were not letting this go until he told you.

“It was inspired by that one night I came home to you and Sungjin” he said rather bitterly, remembering pretty well how he had not been fazed at all by the fact that you and said guy had obviously been making out right before, yet feeling his blood boil at the mere thought of it now. “We stayed up late eating lots and lots of sweet popcorn because I had way too many of them and you became addicted to them and how well they went with wine” a small laugh escaped his mouth at the memory. “So I just went with that. Plus, you were being really sweet that night and it was the first time I got to see that side of you, so…”

“That is really sweet” you mumbled, feeling the heat reach your cheeks.

“Don’t” he pleaded.

You laughed. “It truly is sweet, Vante” the way your eyes had softened at the sight of him, had his heart skipping a beat. “What do the eyes mean, though?”

“You just want to torture me by now” he called you out.

“I’m just asking!” you defended yourself with a giggle.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, feeling the heat reach his face as he intently focused on the painting, evading your eyes as he spoke.

“I’ve never been a fan of people having their full attention on me, I don’t like being the center of attention… I mean, I told you today how I was not looking forward to the moment I would have to give a speech in front of all my guests” you nodded, remembering how you had tried to cheer him up when it came to that. “So I don’t really talk about my art… or about art in general, to anyone. I just show it to them and let them interpret it, that’s what art is about, after all. But that one night you asked me a lot about my art and I actually felt like talking about it with you, and I remember the way your eyes were fixed on me almost as if you were scared you would miss some kind of important detail,” he laughed lightly. “And for the first time I liked the attention. I guess that inspired me enough to paint this”.

“So those are my eyes?” you asked.

He shrugged. “It’s up for interpretation”.

You shook your head in amusement, staring down as you felt your face burning. “You’re the worst”.

Taehyung chuckled, pulling you closer to him with the arm that was still around your shoulders, and using his free hand to place two fingers under your chin and make you look up at him. “Am I now?”

You felt your breathing become heavier the second his nose faintly bumped on yours — his lips only centimeters away from your anticipating ones. Too intimidated by him right then, knowing well enough he had you wrapped around his finger, you managed to shake your head no to answer his question, without taking your eyes away from his for even a second. Or well, that until his chocolate ones travelled down to your mouth.

Staring down into his tempting lips as they slowly came closer to yours, you looked up to his eyes for a split second, just enough to catch a glimpse of the way his remained fixed on your mouth. And then, you saw nothing — eyes instinctively closing when his lips softly trapped your bottom one.

Just one touch of his lips made you wonder how you had managed to go on all these weeks without getting a taste of them again.

“I thought you didn’t do this whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing?” you whispered against his lips, opening your eyes to find his dark ones already fixed on you.

A small, breathy laugh escaped his mouth, leaning in so it would faintly brush against yours. “I’m not kissing you as a friend”.

Your lips parted into a smile, not letting another second go by before you pressed your lips to his, making him smile and cup your face in his hands just like he had done weeks ago with the intention of deepening the kiss.

With your arms wrapping around his neck, you pulled him closer to your body, letting go of the kiss for a second to catch your breath and having him take advantage of your slightly open mouth to trap your bottom lip in his eager ones again, this time tracing his tongue over it and slipping it inside your still open mouth — meeting your awaiting one in the middle just the way he wanted.

Letting go of your face, one of his hands travelled down to your lower back so he could feel you even closer, fingers tracing their way down your bare arms as he did so, and feeling goosebumps form on your skin.

“You’re cold?” he asked, taking one second to catch his breath before his wet lips were back on yours.

You shook your head no, a small, shy laugh escaping your mouth. “I didn’t get chills because I’m cold”.

Taehyung bit his lip, feeling the corners of his mouth curving up and pressing one last kiss to your lips before finally pulling away from you as his eyes were intently fixed on yours.

“I will keep my coat to myself then” he teased you.

“Nope,” you were quick to deny. “I am taking you up on the coat offer when we leave”.

“Okay” he laughed lightly, the hand that was still on your face travelling down your arm to intertwine his fingers with yours. “Shall we go?”

You shook your head no quite effusively. “We’re not done with the exhibit yet!”

“I’m hungry, let’s go eat something” Taehyung whined. “We can come back some other day”.

“Yah,” you called him out. “I came all the way here just to see your artworks”.

Your words earned a somewhat bitter pout from him. “Thought you had come all the way over here to see me”.

You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at that, tugging on his hand to pull him closer, and then making him replace said pout with a smile when you pressed two chaste kisses to his mouth. “It was implicit” your teasing words had him rolling his eyes. “We only have three more to go and then I’m all yours”.

He smirked, pulling you with him to the next piece. “I like the sound of that”.

“I meant it as in, then we can go get some food” you mumbled, feeling your face burning for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“I know” he pecked your lips. “Doesn’t change that I enjoy the sound of that”.

1K notes · View notes

michwritesstuff · 3 years

Text

Late Nights (The Outer Banks: Rafe Cameron)

This song just gives giant Rafe Cameron enemies to lovers vibes! Also, Holy shit, this is my longest work ever! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much I enjoyed writing it!

This takes place season 1, before Rafe kills Peterkin. Let’s just pretend he’s not a psychopath. He’s still the resident bad boy of Figure 8, but not a killer…

summary: female reader (she/her) x Rafe Cameron When Y/N finds herself abandoned by her friends at a house party thrown by no other than Kook King, Topper Thornton, she finds odd company in the form of her classmates and neighbors that she has taken very little liking to. She is surprised to learn that her disinterest in all things “kook-related” has sparked the interest of a particular kook. tw: mention of alcohol/drug consumption, slight smut (18+) word count: 4.1k

Y/N might’ve been a kook, but if it wasn’t for her consistent attendance to Figure Eight events you wouldn’t have known. She hated all the superficial bullshit and quickly found herself befriending a certain group of pogues who she would often run into while working on the Cut. Everything in her life had been so easy for her, and although she was grateful, she couldn’t help but feel guilty about the privilege she received while her friends had spent their life fighting for a chance. Being able to find an ally in Kie was all that Y/N had to look forward to as she continued to find a place for herself among the fight between class divisions in her small hometown.

Summer was coming to an end, and with a few weeks left you couldn’t help but just enjoy the moments with your friends. Sitting on the small boat as the sun slowly set, passing the blunt around while you all tried to keep a serious conversation going before blurting out laughing at some stupid shit JJ had said. You had even found an unlikely friend in the form of kook princess, Sarah Cameron. You had known Sarah Cameron for as long as you could remember, always greeting each other’s families at events and having at least one class together every year. But this was different, you had known Sarah but never gave her a chance to hang out. When John B mentioned her a few weeks ago and started to bring her around you and the other pogues were stunned to say the least. You knew that she was dating Topper Thornton, I mean everyone knew that, but what she had with John B was different, at least from what you had seen. “This was great guys, but I promised Topper I would meet him at his party. Keep up appearances, you know?” Sarah said unsurely. Everyone looked around, nodding in understandment, except John B. “I don’t like him,” JJ spoke up, standing up for John B who continued sulking in silence. “Yeah, him and Rafe are always doing some shit,” Pope also spoke up. “You guys have no idea,” Kiara replied while rolling her eyes at the thought of the kook boys she had known so well. You also nodded in response. “Yeah, well I would invite you guys, but I can’t imagine that going over well.” Once again everyone nodded in agreement, except John B. “What if Y/N goes with you,” he suggested. “Thanks for throwing me under the bus!” you exclaimed back at him. Sarah turned to you with a shy smile, “It’s not such a bad idea. I mean you would know almost everyone.” “Yeah, so does Kie, you don’t see her being volunteered to go,” you exclaimed again. “That’s because they actually like you,” Kie replied, smirking when you rolled your eyes at her statement, she was right. “C’mon Y/N it’ll be fun. You’ll have me to hang out with and if you absolutely hate it, we’ll make up an excuse and leave. Besides, it’d be nice to have someone there that I don’t need to be fake with.” You thought for a moment before slowly nodding your head, cursing under your breath as your friends cheered around you. “There’s our little kookie,” JJ stated, jumping away in defense as you attempted to punch his arm.

The bass of the music pounded in your ears as you walked up the driveway. If even possible it got louder once you finally entered the front door, you swore your eardrums were about to rupture. Finding the kitchen, you reached out for two truly’s, your disappointment in the night continuing as feeling they were just room temperature. They weren’t your first choice of alcohol to get through a night like this and seeing as though they weren’t even cold made it worse. You instantly cracked it open, downing as much as you could on the first sip. You handed the other one to Sarah, bumping your open can to her’s in an attempt to say cheers. She laughed at you, “I’m gonna go find Topper. You’ll be okay if I leave you alone for a few minutes?” You took another sip before responding, “Figured this would happen at some point, yeah I’ll be good.” Watching her leave your eyes scanned the kitchen, deciding you needed to loosen up some more you pushed off the counter, “I need something stronger,” you whispered under your breath.

Making your way through the house you scanned the room for unattended bottles you could mooch off. To your surprise you were pulled by the arm, “Omg Y/N, what are you doing here?” a girly high-pitched voice screeched. You turned around, already ready to use your preppy voice, “Hey Claire,” you responded in a mock happy voice matching hers. Claire was sweet, n just not your cup of tea. The two of you had always been civil, sharing a few classes here and there. “Mind if I?” you asked, gesturing to the bottle of Tito’s vodka in her hand. “Oh sure, just be careful. I’ve gotten fucked up with this shit more times than I could remember,” she laughed while handing you the bottle. You lift the bottle up to your lips, the taste on the rim barely making an impact on your tastebuds. But as you thew your head back and lifted the bottle you took one big swig. The alcohol ran down your throat, a warmth following the path it took as it settled in your stomach. “Ugh, Claire, that shit is just straight rubbing alcohol. How the fuck do you drink that?” you exclaimed, handing her the bottle as you wiped the back of your mouth with your hand. She laughed at your reaction, “Believe me, in a little while you won’t even care how it tastes. Just know that you’ll feel it.” You nodded your head while once again scanning your eyes across the room. A few feet away was a coffee table surrounded by teens. Claire noticed your interest and dragged you over. Looking up from the table was Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s brother, who on more than one account you had gotten into a heated argument about your choice of friends. The two of you made eye contact as he wiped the leftover residue from the line of cocaine he had just done. Classy as ever Cameron, you thought as you broke eye contact and examined all the other teens waiting their turn. Rafe greeted Claire with a smirk and half-nod before returning his attention to you. “Awww Y/L/N, get tired of hanging around those boring old pogues, and decided to have some real fun?” he mocked while gesturing to the lines set up in front of him. You scoffed at his suggestion, “Keep dreaming,” you responded. Living in your teenage years and drinking was one thing, but if your parents caught you doing drugs there was a good chance you wouldn’t have much of a life to live. Making eye contact with you he slowly lowered himself closer to the table, quickly doing another line before looking up at you again. Is this kid trying to kill himself? you thought to yourself. You reached out for Claire’s bottle, taking another swig before motioning it up to Rafe. “Always a pleasure Cameron,” you stated before handing Claire her bottle.

Leaving the room, you realized that you hadn’t seen Sarah for a while. Wandering around the house in attempt to find her you bumped into Topper. “Hey Top, seen Sarah anywhere?” you asked. “Uhm a little while ago, she said she went to go find you,” he said quizzingly. “Yeah, right. Just kidding, she went to the bathroom. I’ll go find her,” you quickly spitted out. Nearly running you got away from Topper as fast as you could before finding an empty spot on the wall. Leaning back against the wall, you pulled your phone from your pocket and found a few texts from Sarah and one from John B. “Hey Y/N, John B showed up.” “We just left, please distract Topper.” “I owe you one.” You responded back, “ughh ok, I’m on it.” Clicking on John B’s name you read his message, “sorry kookie, had to steal her. thanks!” You rolled your eyes at the dumb nickname him and the others decided for you, their attempt to always tease you about your kook lifestyle. You sent him the middle finger emoji and a yellow heart before turning your phone off and looking around for Topper. Spotting him talking to Kelce you kept your place on the wall. As long as you could see him and he couldn’t see you, there was no reason to suspect anything about Sarah. Besides, after about half an hour you could probably make a break for the exit, and no one would notice.

As you continued to scroll on your phone you were slightly startled by the presence of another human standing near you. Your eyes looked up to a boy standing in front of you. He was tall, but you couldn’t ignore how young and immature he looked. “Don’t even think about it freshman,” you said before he had the chance. He laughed while nodding his head. “Hey, I had to try. Should’ve known a girl as smart as you wouldn’t give me a chance,” he responded. You gave him a quizzical look as you quickly glanced him up and down. He wasn’t too dumb if he knew to compliment your intelligence over any physical feature. He reached his hand out to shake yours, “I’m Nathan.” You glanced at his hand for a second before reluctantly shaking it “I’m Y/N,” you replied. “I know,” he said a little too quickly making the both of you chuckle. “Mrs. Nichol said you were the captain of the mock trial team. She talked to you the other day about me joining,” he rambled on. You laughed at his apparent nervousness. “Oh yeah, well I guess it’s nice to meet you, Nathan. Not exactly the type of place to bring up extracurriculars,” you laughed while motioning to the number of teens, drugs, and alcohol around you. As you did you could feel the stare from a certain kook, no doubt watching your exchange with the boy in front of you. “Probably not, but it did get you talking to me,” he quirked back. Nodding your head in amusement at his reply you responded, “Touché.” As the volume of the music had apparently increased within the last few seconds of your exchange, Nathan leaned forward slightly so he could hear you better. “Can I get you something to drink?” He asked while leaning down. “I can take it from here,” you heard Rafe speak from behind you as he slid his hand around to the small of your back. Confused by the situation unraveling in front of you, you were quick to speak. “Uhm, actually Cameron, Nathan and I were having a lovely conversation about something you couldn’t possibly be interested in,” you stated attempting to distance yourself away from Rafe and closer to Nathan. “Yeah, I—” Nathan attempted to speak before being interrupted, “Seriously, Miller, beat it or practice on Monday will be hell.” You confusingly looked at Nathan and Rafe before finally understanding. Just like you would be Nathan’s captain, so was Rafe. “Water polo?” you questioned. “Yeah, you’ll catch a game?” he asked in return. “Yeah!” you said sweetly before a mocking scoff turned your attention to Rafe, to which your surprise still had his hand on the small of your back, it almost felt natural that you hadn’t noticed it was still there. Looking at him expectantly he pulled his hands away holding them up in an ‘ok I get it’ way. “Can I help you?” you asked expectantly. “Care to go for a swim?” he asked. You looked at him confused, you weren’t sure if it was your light buzz from your shots of vodka talking but he seemed just as surprised as you were as you answered, “yes!”

As he grabbed your hand, you quietly followed as he led you through the house. “I’m gonna need more alcohol before we do this,” you exclaimed as loud as you could, hoping he would hear you over the volume of the music. He turned to look at you for a moment before turning back and nodding, showing that he had in fact heard your request. Walking through the kitchen he left you at the counter while reaching into one of the cabinets, pulling down a full bottle of Tito’s. He motioned you from your spot and you continued to follow. “My parents got this as a gift for the Thornton’s but it’s not really their style.” You nodded understandingly, Topper’s parents didn’t really seem like the type to be chugging back vodka shots, they were more sophisticated. Following him through the house you were confused as you walked past the sliding glass door that led to the pool and the dozens of other teens who had the same idea you two had, or so you thought. “Where are we going?” you asked. Rafe stayed silent as you continued following him. Opening another set of glass doors, he let you exit first before quickly following. On the side of the house was a hot tub that apparently no one knew about, seeing as though you and Rafe were the only ones out here. “What the hell is this, Cameron?” you asked. He looked at you, confusion evident on his face. “You said we were going swimming. We can’t do that in a hot tub.” He laughed before handing you the now open bottle of Tito’s, watching you take a sip he replied, “What, did you plan on working on your breaststroke or something?” He said jokingly. “No, I actually planned on playing mermaids. Maybe it’s you who needs to work on breaststroke,” you responded wittily. He feigned shock and hurt, taking the bottle from your hand. “My breaststroke is amazing, just ask your friend Claire,” he winked as you scoffed in amusement and disgust. After taking another sip he handed the bottle back to you, removing his clothes he stripped down until he was in his boxers. That left little to the imagination as you could see the outline of his dick printed. Feeling your eyes, he gave you a smirk to which you sheepishly took another sip of vodka, shaking as you felt the liquid burn down your throat. Entering the hot tub, he sat with arms spread out to both his sides, resting on the edge. “Aren’t you going to join me?” he asked. You nodded, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You handed him the bottle, starting to undress as you felt his eyes drawn to your exposed skin where you had begun to lift your shirt. “Hey! Turn around Cameron,” you exclaimed. He put his hands up in defense, turning his head so his attention was drawn to the bubbles and pressure coming from the jets. Folding your shirt and jeans on to the table nearby you turned back around to Rafe examining your exposed body adorning a basic black sports bra and lace thong. You immediately turned red, not knowing how to react under his intense stare. As you entered the hot tub you slipped when placing your foot on the bench to step in, landing you a little closer to Rafe then you planned. He held your arm as you attempted to steady yourself. “You alright?” he asked. You were able to manage out a “mhmm” as you reached for another sip from the bottle. He gladly handed you the bottle, a lazy smile on his face.

You weren’t sure how you always ended up like this but something about being drunk and outside led to you staring at the moon and stars. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Rafe asked, breaking the silence. You tried to remain calm with his choice of words, not wanting him to know the effect he was having on you. “Just thinking,” you responded quietly. “About what,” you scanned his face for a second, genuine interest radiating off him. “As niche as it sounds, life…I mean doesn’t this all seem so pathetic,” you stated as you continued to stare off into the sky. “Life?” he asked, laughing to mask his confusion. You chuckled along with him, “No, this…pogues vs. kooks. It’s all so fucking dumb. There are so many more problems out there, so many people who need help and we can’t even come together to help people in our own community.” He just hummed as you continued to ramble on, listening to what you had to say. “I can’t help but just feel guilty. I mean what did I do to deserve this type of life. I mean my parents work hard but they’ve had so many opportunities because of their parents and their parents, and it just keeps going. This sort of generational wealth and success…” you quietly trailed off as you realized who you were talking to. “But I mean you probably don’t care,” you said while looking at him. He shook his head with a smirk. “Now I know why Sarah never shuts up about how smart you are.” You looked at him more intently, “what?” you exclaimed. He nodded his head, before turning his attention to the sky like you had before. “I mean, I guess I just never thought of it that way. Kind of blind to the privilege that I have.” “Must be all the coke,” you mumbled to yourself under your breath. He shot you a warning look before chuckling, “might be the coke,” he responded. You laughed along with him before a serious tone washed over him. “I mean it Y/N, you’re just so attuned to the needs of others,” He exclaimed. “Well, you can be like that too,” you reassured him. “Yeah right, there’s not a lot of hope left for me,” he replied sarcastically. “That’s not true. I mean sure you have your flaws, but from what I’ve seen you’re a good friend, loyal and family is important to you. Those are good qualities, and I mean of course you’re not half bad looking.” He laughed at the last part. “Well, Y/L/N, you’re extremely caring, intelligent, and hot as fuck! So, you have that going for you.” It was your turn to laugh and turn red at his comment. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol dulling your senses, but as you looked into Rafe’s eyes you felt yourself being drawn closer. You both leaned in, lips barely brushing each other as your breaths slowed. “Can I kiss you,” he asked. You could barely hear him over the sound of your own heart beating in your chest. “Please,” you nearly whined. Your tone making Rafe swoon as he gently pushed his lips onto yours.

As happy as you were with his gentleness, the alcohol you had consumed throughout the night had made you far hornier than you liked to admit. Leaning deeper into the kiss you gently placed your hands onto his chest before lightly pushing him back to so you could straddle his lap. As you did so, Rafe took a large sip from the bottle, as you looked at him expectantly. He gave you a smirk before bringing the bottle close to your lips, tilting your head back, you let him pour some of the alcohol down your throat. Before you could process the liquid once again burning the back your throat you pressed a heated kiss on to his lips. As your hands moved up from their place on his chest to the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair, his hands move from where he was setting the bottle down to trailing around your waist and landing on your ass, holding you in place. As your tongues continued to fight for dominance, he pulled away slightly. Kissing down your jaw and starting to suck on your neck you slightly grinded down on to him while continuing to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. His hands left your waist, guiding your hips back and forth as you continued to grind on him. As he continued to work on your neck you moaned as he found your sweet spot, “Fuck Rafe,” you exclaimed. You could feel him smirk as he continued. Giving him a break, you leaned forward slightly, changing the angle to which you were grinding down on him and leaving marks over his neck and chest. “Fuck babe,” he stated. “Being so good to me,” he continued as he leaned in for another kiss. “Yes, sir,” you said, testing the waters. You could clearly tell that you were starting to drive Rafe crazy as he moaned into your mouth at your response. Roughly grabbing your hip, he speeded the pace of your grinding. As you continued to litter marks along his chest, he reached a hand up to pull your sports bra down far enough so that your boobs were spilling over the top. The pressure of the band along with the added sensation of Rafe’s mouth on your nipple was almost too much. Along with this you could feel how hard he had gotten under you. I mean, you knew he was big, but this was godly. Your makeout session was quickly abrupted as you both snapped your heads to the sound of the glass doors sliding open. Quickly removing yourself from Rafe’s lap and adjusting your bra, you sat silently, reaching for the bottle again. “What’s up Top?” Rafe asked nonchalantly. Topper looked at you both slyly, clearly knowing what he half-witnessed between the two of you. “Not much, I can’t find Sarah anywhere Y/N. And she’s not answering her fucking calls.” “Yeah, she wasn’t feeling well. Said she headed home; her phone probably died. Don’t worry Top,” you said as convincingly as the alcohol would let you. Topper seemed to accept your answer and reentered the house. Rafe looked at you unconvincingly. “She just left you?” he asks. Avoiding his gaze, you let your hands play with the water. Slowly nodding your head, you responded, “guess so…” “That doesn’t sound like Sarah,” he continued. “Well that’s what happened,” you snapped. Thinking about the conversation you would have to have with Sarah about how you failed to keep Topper distracted and the alcohol finally making its presence in your system known was too much to handle. “Ughh back to reality, I guess,” you groaned out. Rafe pulled you into his side so that his arm was around your shoulder and your head resting on his. “What are you up to now?” he asked. “Figuring how to make it home alive,” you chuckled dryly. He hummed in thought next to you. After a second, he spoke, surprising you in the process, “Stay with me.” “Rafe…” you dragged out unsurely. “Seriously Y/N, that way you don’t have to worry about going home right now.” You looked at him for a second before slowly nodding. Getting out of the hot tub he disappeared for a second before returning with a set of towels. As you both dried yourselves off and gathered your clothes you headed to Topper’s guestroom.

Stumbling around in your drunken state, Rafe grabbed the clothes from your hand. Setting them on a nearby table he turned so that you were facing each other. Reaching down slightly he grabbed your legs from under your thighs so that he was now carrying you. Feeling the warmth of his chest you pressed closer, wrapping your legs around his hips in the process. With each step you slightly bounced against him. The sexual tension from earlier quickly returning. Finally reaching the room Rafe laid down so that you were now on your back while he hovered over you. With your legs around his waist and arms around his neck you gently pulled him in, pecking a sweet kiss on your lips. “I need to shower,” you said shyly. He nodded his head, pulling away slightly so he was standing, and you stayed sprawled out on the bed. “I’ll go get us some water,” he stated as he slowly walked out the room. Leaving the door cracked enough so he wouldn’t bother anyone with the sound of it opening and closing you sat up, finally taking in your surroundings. Getting up and heading to the bathroom you folded your towel, pulling off your bra and underwear as you let the water run until it was hot enough. As you let the water run over your body you stood for a minute, just thinking about everything that had happened that night, you rub your hands down your face, muttering “fuck.” You weren’t sure what was happening, but it was a problem future you would just have to deal with later.

a/n: If you like my work please support by liking/reblogging. Also, feel free to message me about ideas. I haven’t written in a while because I don’t have a lot of time, but when inspiration hits i’ll sit down for hours :)

Masterlist

#teentvimagines #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron imagines #obx #obx netflix #obx imagine #obx imagine rafe #obx rafe cameron #Spotify #obx imagines

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moemoemammon · 3 years

Note

okkkkkkay so personally I’ve never picked the choices of ‘I wanna go home’ in game, so I guess I mustn’t be that curious right? lol but like I am curious to know how they react to MC being family oriented, being super close to her parents and siblings (i have two and I’m the middle one) and just constantly and out of nowhere being homesick

Homesick MC!

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

As a family man himself, Lucifer can understand where you're coming from. After all, you were plucked out of your world without warning, and forced to stay in the Devildom for an entire year.

At first he didn't care much about your emotional struggle, so it wasn't until you two were close that he actually started paying attention. And it was pretty obvious too, with the way you always talked about your family.

He hopes now that you're closer to him and his brothers, they can make up for what you're missing out on. Still, he does his best to comfort you in that 'Lucifer' sort of way.

Did you really think he’d stand by and let you walk around looking so pitiful? There's a teeny tiny heart somewhere in cold chasm of a chest of his.

"It must be difficult for you to be away from your family. But I hope you can rest easy knowing that we all see you as a part of our family, MC. It may not be the same as being with your real family, but we care about you all the same."

Mammon

Yeah... Mammon gets it. Even though his brothers get on his damned nerves, he loves them to pieces! He needs his space, but he wouldn't wanna be away from home for an entire year.

Especially not if he had to live in a house full of people he didn't know. He can seriously sympathize!

He might not be a master when it comes to comforting you, but you know you can count on him, right? He'll drown you in so much attention, you won't even have time to think about your family back home!

But still... he's got a looming sense of dread. If you're that homesick, you'll surely want to stay home after this, right? Who's to say you'll ever come back to visit him..? Maybe he outta find a way to go with you or something...

"I know you wanna see your family n' all, but don't you go forgettin' about me! And make sure ya come to visit, or I'll go up to get ya myself! I'll miss ya, so...ya know.."

Levi

Sorry. Can't relate.

Just kidding. Levi might be a shut in that prefers his personal space, but it's not like he hates his family or anything! He likes their company in small doses.

But it doesn't look like you have that luxury, since you can't even get a crumb of family time. Would a video chat even work from the Devildom??

Well.... for what it's worth, you can always just come to his room whenever you're feeling lonely. You can't really go anywhere right now, but it should be easier if you just stick with him, right?

"Do you wanna play Sims? ...I-I'm not trying to replace your family or anything! I mean, we could make them if you want, or-... I just want to help take your mind off of things. A year should be a breeze if you don't think about it, right?"

Satan

He's been surrounded by family since the day he was born, so being away from them for an entire year would be... interesting.

Satan considers himself widely independent so he doesn't think he NEEDS his brothers, and there are days when he wishes they'd all just vanish, and sometimes he comes incredibly close to making that a reality-

But for a human like you, who thrives on social interaction (according to his nerd research) you probably don't feel the same way.

Especially with the way you've been sulking around, longingly talking about your family like it'd magically poof them into the Devildom. He might not be able to relate, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel bad for you.

"I've heard that retelling stories of your loved ones can help you cope with them not being around. I'd love to hear about them, if you don't mind telling me? Maybe I could write it all down for you to keep as well. Consider it a 'thank you' for putting up with all of us for a year."

Asmo

Aren't you happy that you have time alone? Asmo couldn't imagine ALWAYS being around his brothers. Maybe Satan and sometimes Beel? But he's fine in solitude!

He prefers the company of strangers roe often than not, but that doesn't mean he hates family or anything. Still, a year away isn't THAT long, is it? Maybe for a human??

But if you're really so torn up about it, you can always come to him for some TLC! Asmo's arms are open wide for you any time of the day. And if that won't do it, he'll gladly hear you out.

If there's anyone who'll listen to your woes, it's the Avatar of Lust. He's good for gossip, and the king of self care. Your mental health is just as important to him as anything else!

"I'm more than happy to give you all the love you need! How about this, I'll spoil you until you aren't lonely anymore, okay? Why don't we have a movie night, just the two of us?"

Beel

Beel understands how you can be lonely. It must've been pretty scary, suddenly showing up in the Devildom like that. At first he didn't care about your struggle, but now...

And he remembers how he felt when Belphie was gone. It's sort of the other way around for you, but he can still relate to your sadness.

He hopes you don't mind food therapy, because Beel's compiled a list of your favorite foods, and he's determined to cheer you up by making your favorite meals everyday.

And then he asks you for your favorite meals from home, and enlists the help of his brothers to bring that taste of home to your dinner plate.

"You can always stay with me and Belphie when you get lonely. I don't know if we'll be anything like your family back at home, but... We can still keep you company, too."

Belphie

Belphie may act like a brat that doesn't like to be bothered by his brothers, but if there's anyone that needs to spend time with them, it's him.

Yeah, after the whole attic thing, he's been especially close to his family. And we all know how he gets with Beel, so being completely isolated in a strange place for an entire year wouldn't do him any good.

And he might be a bastard toward you, but he's not heartless. He doesn't like seeing you mope around all the time. Nosy MC that sticks their nose into everything is his favorite, so cheer up already.

Nap therapy doesn't seem that effective since you tend to dream about your family too, so he's gotta try a different approach. He has to use his... *gag* his heart... 🤢

"What would your family think if they saw that face you were making? When you really miss them, you know you can come to me, right? Why don't you tell me about them? I'll try not to fall asleep."

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astralflower-writes · 3 years

Text

heart like yours

☾ pairing: mark sloan x female! reader

☾ genre: angst

☾ warnings: season 9 spoilers; death

☾ read the prequel here

☾ check out the grey's anatomy masterlist here

☾ a/n: i moved accounts so im posting it again here

you and your colleagues were sitting and waiting on the conference room for a week now. waiting for a call that the team of doctors who were going to fly to boise are finally found.

countless thoughts were running in your head. are they all fine?

you were trying to hold off surgeries that you can, thinking that in every second you can get stuck inside an OR the rescue team would call.

"y/n. you need to rest. we'll page you right away if there's something." webber said who was sitting right beside you.

"i'm fine dr. webber, i slept on an on-call room earlier." you explained, leaning back on the chair.

"but, you need to take care of yourself and the baby–" callie spoke. "callie, i–we're fine. our priority now is our people who's stuck somewhere." with that they dropped and the room went back in silence.

"are you sure? i can be subbed out so i can come with you." he asked you as you helped him prepare.

"i want to see my kid."

"i promise i'll send a picture. with a video, right away." sending him off with a kiss.

"y/n!"

"wha-what?" you were brought back to reality when callie started to shake your shoulders.

"they found them. they finally found them..." hugging each other, owen instructed that the both of you should wait at the hospital and prepare for them coming.

you prayed that they were found unscathed.

the wait for the owen's update was killing you. still sitting and waiting inside the conference room, callie suddenly came in, phone in her hand.

"y/n..."

"no...callie i–"

"mark's... mark isn't in a good condition right now. a-and hunt's trying to bring them all here."

"arizona? is she fine?" the both of you now have tears coming out. "she–her leg has a pretty bad infection."

silence filled the room again.

"can't we fly there to see them now?" trying to compose yourself with all the information you learned about your people.

after a few days of waiting, you finally saw them again.

you never left mark's side. even when he needed surgery, you watched him from the gallery.

it's been a week and you were never seen outside, besides sitting down on mark's bed side. you couldn't let him out of your sight. you kept thinking that even if you take one step out of his room, you'd loose him.

it wasn't until a few days later that derek somehow convinced you to go home and rest up and told you how would mark act if he saw you like that especially when you're now carrying his child. getting sleep on your bed was great but it feels so big when you're the only one laying.

"god. mark please come back." hugging his pillow before dozing off.

you were woken up by the endless knocking on your door. still clad in your pajamas, you opened to see jackson, catching his breath.

"it-it's mark."

"n-no..." you started to get frantic, tears running down your cheeks.

"no y/n! he's awake."

the both of you rushed back to the hospital. praying that his recovery would be speedy. so the both of you could spend your lives the way you used to.

"there's my y/n! where you've been?" he spoke the minute he saw you. you ran to his side, still crying. "i'd really hate you if you left me alone, mark."

you spent the whole day by his side, talking endlessly about how he's going to decorate the nursery and how sofia would grow up close to her sibling.

but of course you can't hold off your patients for too long. "you can go, babe. i won't go anywhere." convincing you to do your work and by the time you get back, he's still pretty much alive and smiling.

"and baby, if you can sneak in some tacos they sell across the street, it would be perfect." mark said winking at you as you took one more glance at him. making your way through the halls and making an intern get the tacos mark asked for.

you were getting those glances. the ‘we are sorry about what happened to your husband’ kind of glances. then you overheard some of the staff nurses saying that it's only ‘the surge.’ that it's the last bit of energy mark has on his body. you shrugged it off, trying not to think about what words were traveling around. even callie told you about it and supported you that this is the start of mark's road to his recovery.

unfortunately, you got caught up to an emergency surgery and you let the intern bring mark his tacos because he does not like it cold.

when you were done with your surgery, derek and meredith was waiting for you by the scrub sinks.

"y/n, mark he--we had to intubate him and he's now in a coma."

"he w-was fine before i left. h-how can he be in a coma derek?"

"mer?"

"y/n, they did everything that they could but–"

"no. he isn't gone. he-he'll be back." sobbing in meredith's arm.

richard told you about mark's wishes. 30 days. he wanted to be let go after 30 days. you wanted to change that, but he indicated, no one can change his wishes. even you.

breathe deep, breathe clear

know that I'm here, know that I'm here

waiting

spent most of your days looking at mark. looking for any signs of consciousness.

"hey. just got off from my doctor's appointment." taking out a picture of the ultrasound.

"we're having a little boy..."

"i'd really like it if he and sofia would grow up with you." breaking down on his side.

i'll see you soon, i'll see you soon

two weeks had passed. there are still no signs of improvement.

"this is getting too hard to watch." alex said watching you with mark. he and meredith were about to get you out, but bailey stopped them. "that woman is grieving. let her be. as long as she still takes care of herself, we'll let her be."

you only step out of his room when you need a change of clothes or when callie's going to sit with him.

days passed by, it's the thirtieth day. dreading the day. you can't bear to see them remove mark from the ventilators and machines.

the time was getting closer and closer, you were nowhere to be seen.

"y/n's coming right?" jackson whispered to bailey.

"should we send someone to find her?" replying to jackson.

it was almost time and still, you were nowhere to be found. richard said that you'll be back when you're ready.

so here you are, at the rooftop of your apartment where you could perfectly see the hospital. you were preparing for this day and you were still not ready to let him go. you checked the time, knowing that by this time they already removed him from the machines.

waiting for a few minutes for a call that mark miraculously had woken up and but the only update you got is nothing.

"let's go see daddy one more time?" rubbing your small bump and making your way back to the hospital.

you've reached where mark was. stepping inside, derek gave his sit to you.

you sat with him and callie, just waiting.

"c-could i be alone with him for a minute?" derek and callie agreed and left the room.

grasping mark's hand and leaning into it, memorizing every lines on his face, hoping he wouldn't fade from your memories.

"hey...remember that time we went out to check out the new coffee shop my friend started?"

"well, we were in a band in highschool and we used to write our own songs. so, i-we made this song for you..."

"i imagined this singing to you in our living room and with my guitar though..."

How could a heart like yours ever love a heart like mine?

How could I live before?

How could I have been so blind?

You opened up my eyes

holding his hands tighter and taking a seat on his bed, you started singing for him, only him.

Hold fast hope

All your love is all I've ever known

How could a heart like yours ever love a heart like mine?

How could I live before?

How could I have been so blind?

You opened up my eyes

ending your song, you still have that bit of hope that he'll open his eyes.

"god. i love you so much mark… a-and i promise that'll i'll... i'll make sure our son will grow up to know you and love you."

standing up by his side, you kissed his forehead. whispering to his ears. "it's okay... i'm going to be fine. you can go now, mark."

#grey's anatomy imagines #grey's anatomy x reader #greys anatomy imagines #greys anatomy x reader #grey's anatomy #mark sloan imagines #mark sloan x reader #mark sloan #astralflower-writes

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years

Text

Daddy Issues | Draco Malfoy

Wow I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disappear like that Lovelies! Sometimes I forget depression and writers block are a thing until they punch me in the face and force me to go MIA for a hundred years! I guess I’m back? I hope? Fingers crossed? Anyway, I’m sorry this isn’t a TVD fic but I figured Y’all would appreciate something over nothing. I missed you all more than I can say! I hope you enjoy, I love you all!

Description: Draco and y/n are best friends until Draco’s father threatens y/n. She avoids Draco until he confronts her.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: Like none, it’s kinda sad but not really, the only flaw is bad writing

Word count: 3.4k

Tags: Angst, FLUFF

(not my gif, I just love it lol)

Your heart stings from across the courtyard, the gap between you and the blonde boy tangible. For a second you don't know whether or not your heart is even in your chest anymore or if it’s in his hands. In that case your heart is sitting on a bench, sandwiched between Blaise Zabini and Vincent Crabbe. Maybe he isn’t holding your heart, though, maybe he is your heart, in which case you’re avoiding your heart’s piercing gaze.

Your hands twitch at your sides, itching to grab his or to twist through his silky hair or do anything other than lay idle when he is only mere steps away from you. Your hands ache to touch him and usually you would be doing just that: clinging to his robes or twisting the rings around on his fingers or simply tangling your own fingers with his slender ones. Your hands feel painfully empty without him to hold on to.

That makes sense though, he’s your best friend after all. You’re rarely ever spotted less than five feet away from each other. Everyone at Hogwarts can see how utterly entwined you are, every part of him wrapped around your finger and every part of you sitting precisely in the palm of his hand. You orbit each other, drawn in by a gravity that the rest of the student body can’t deny.

Right now, though, that gravity is being tested and everyone feels a little bit like they’re floating away.

Draco sits exactly seventeen feet and four inches away from you. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head, like lasers, searing into your black and gold jumper and refusing to look away. It burns but you embrace it, taking any contact, even imagined, that you can get from him. Even if it hurts. You would gladly burn for the blonde Slytherin if it made him happy. This doesn’t make him happy, though, being ignored by the girl that commands his entire life. You know that, but you also know that it’s for the best.

You run your hands through your hair, tugging on the strands relentlessly and closing your eyes. You see his father, the tall, grim man, and replay the conversation you had in your head.

“He has a bright future ahead of him, y/n.”

Lucious had backed you into a corner, both metaphorically and literally, the stone of the castle biting harshly into your skin, “I know that, sir.”

He stood tall, menacingly, like he was bigger than the castle itself, “he doesn’t have time for nonsense, y/n.”

Your hands trembled, the cold of the dungeon nipping at them fiercely, “he’s very bright, Mr. Malfoy, I don’t think I’m slowing him down.”

The neutral, if not cold, expression on his face switched then to one of red hot anger, “did I ask what you think? It’s time the two of you separate. He is to be married next year and not to some silly Hufflepuff girl.”

“We’re just friends, sir,” your eyes had long since found the floor.

“Don’t be daft, my son is infatuated with you. If I catch you near him from this day on I will not hesitate to destroy you, do you understand me? Do not speak to him again.”

That was two weeks ago and you haven’t dared to go near him since, spending every waking moment of your spare time in the Hufflepuff common room. You aren’t brave, you didn’t march up to your best friend and tell him that his father threatened to destroy you. You would be lying if you said you even thought about it. The reality of it is that you’re a coward and have iced Draco out in fear of having his father hurt either of you.

His father’s words still ring in your head. Don’t be daft, my son is infatuated with you. Your heart flutters hard in your chest, your rib cage the only barrier keeping it from finding him across the courtyard. Draco is infatuated with you. Apparently. He hasn’t said so, only his father. Still, you can’t help but hope that it’s true.

But then that makes your chest burn and palms sting again. You aren’t allowed to hope that Draco wants you. You aren’t even allowed to hope that he wants to be your friend. You’re not allowed anywhere near him, let alone allowed to kiss him. Would he even kiss you? Probably not. You tug even harder on your hair, as if pulling each strand out will somehow take the pain away. Don’t be daft.

“Y/n,” gentle hands wrap around your tight fists, “you’re hurting yourself.”

You forgot Luna was there, sitting next to you on the bench, the bench that is seventeen feet and four inches away from Draco. You let the airy Ravenclaw unravel your fingers and hold one of your hands, rubbing circles on the back of your palm. It doesn’t feel the same, her grip is too soft, her fingers too short. Draco’s fingers are longer.

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog of him from your senses, “sorry, I know I’m not the best company right now.”

Luna only smiles at you and rolls her eyes gently, “I know it’s hard for you right now.”

Of course you told her. You weren’t able to tell Draco so you turned to Luna, your other best friend. You nod your head at the blonde girl, too tired to speak.

“I think you should tell him though, he looks bloody miserable without you,” your eyes widen as if on their own accord.

You feel dizzy at the thought and not the good kind like when Draco spins you around. No, this is the bad kind of ‘I’m definitely going to throw up’ dizzy. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears rapidly. Thump, thump, thump. It almost sounds like footsteps, angry ones, pounding towards you. That can’t be right.

“I can’t tell him, Luna, you know that.”

A hand lands on your shoulder, warmth spreading through your jumper. You open your mouth, ready to thank Luna for relentlessly comforting you, but close it quickly when a thought hits you. You glance down to your lap, just to double check. There, on your lap rests your hand carefully wrapped up in both of Luna’s. Crap.

“What can’t you tell me?” It takes everything in you to not let his familiar voice curl around you and pull you further into his touch.

You shift out of his hold, not turning to look at him yet, afraid to see the expression on his face. Would it be anger? Sadness? Disgust? The last one makes your heart drop, the thought of the blonde boy being repulsed by you causing you to curl into yourself slightly. You would take anything from him but that.

You stand curtly, turning to face Draco, all too aware of the lack of space between you and him. Six inches at the most, every breath he takes makes his chest brush yours. You still don’t look up at him, not anywhere ready to meet the eyes of the boy you’ve been avoiding.

You lock your eyes on his silver and green tie, mumbling to it instead of him, “What makes you think I was talking about you, Draco?”

You finally glance up at him and wish you hadn’t. His eyes, usually a bright blue, are dull and rimmed with red. The bruises under his eyes stand out against his cheeks. He’s always had dark circles but this is extreme. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, like he hasn’t eaten in days. It’s almost garish, but then again nothing could ever make the Slytherin Prince look anything less than perfect. He looks destroyed, almost as if his father had gotten to him too. You have to stop yourself from reaching out, choosing instead to look away again.

“Are you serious right now? Tell me this is all a joke y/n!” The courtyard goes silent when Draco raises his voice.

You squeeze your fists, the tone of his voice a punch in the gut. He never shouts at you. Draco is never anything but soft around you. Right now, however, he’s seething. No one around you dares to make a sound.

You close your eyes, trying desperately to stop a traitorous flood of tears, “Draco, please don’t do this right now.”

Draco takes a step back, as if your words had shoved him, “if not now then when? You’ve given me no choice! You run every time you see me, you don’t answer my notes. Do you even read them anymore? Can you just explain why you bloody hate me?”

His voice cracks when he says hate, like its acid in his mouth. In any way it’s acid to your ears. You could never hate Draco, it’s very much the opposite actually. You’re painfully in love with him.

“I don’t,” you have to pause to clear your throat, trying to rid the lump, “I could never hate you.”

His hand grasps you chin gently, his rings cold against your skin as he pulls your face up to meet his eyes, “then tell me what’s going on. Please.”

You squeeze your eyes close, sinking into the warmth of his palm for a moment. You can’t remember a time you’ve gone this long without the blonde boy touching you. You can’t stop the tears from trailing down your cheeks and into his palm. You can feel the hitch in his breath as if it had come from your own lungs. You wrap your own hands around his, squeezing his fingers gently before pulling them away from you.

“I can’t, Dra. We can’t do this anymore. I’m,” your voice trembles, your eyes still closed, his hand still locked in yours, “I’m not good for you. We can’t be friends.”

You release his hand, taking a few steps back from the love of your life. This time, though, he doesn’t let you get as far, taking two steps towards you for every step you take away from him. It doesn’t take him long before he’s in front of you again, closer and even more determined. His eyes burn into yours, his hands restless. You know he wants to touch you. At least, you hope he does. You want to.

“Don’t say that,” there’s a strength behind his words, one you have yet to hear until now, “don’t you dare say that! Tell me what’s going on y/n, you need to tell me! I can fix it. I can make it better whatever it is just please tell me. Please, love.”

Love. That’s new. Your heart cracks even more when he says it and maybe that’s because you know you won’t get to hear it again. You wish you could grab the word from his lips and hold on to it. You want to put it in your pocket so at least you can have a part of him, the very best part of him, for when he walked away. But you can’t, so there’s no use in trying.

“You can’t fix it this time, Draco,” you take another step back and your back hits the rough surface of a tree.

He fills the space between the two of you once more and this time you’re stuck. Your palms continue to sting, reminding you relentlessly how much you need to touch him. You scrunch the hem of your jumper, trying desperately to quell the pain. Your wrists feel like they’re on fire, something you’ve come to realise that means you’re about to have a panic attack. He can't see that happen, you refuse to fall apart in front of him.

Of course he notices, though. That’s your Draco, he notices everything about you. That’s his job.

He grabs your face again, stopping you from frantically looking everywhere but him, “of course I can. When have I not fixed your problems? Remember when those Ravenclaws’ were messing with you? I took care of that, didn’t I? And Parkinson? Zabini? I took care of them too. Remember when Snape wouldn’t let you hand in your assignment because you had the flu? And the time you passed out in the stairwell? I fixed those too because I can. Because I wanted to and I do what I want. Now, all I’ve wanted for days is you so if someone said something to you I need you to tell me so I can sort them out and get my best friend back. Now.”

He stares into your eyes the entire time, daring you to turn away. You feel like you can’t breathe, your hands once again wrapped around his but this time clinging for dear life. You’ve been terrified for two weeks and the exhaustion hits you in one, whopping punch to your stomach, the second punch of the day. Without warning your legs give out, all of your weight falling into the blonde who seems to expect it. His arms wrap around you, holding you against his chest for the first time in what feels like ages.

You don’t realise that you’re sobbing until you try to speak, “Dra, I’m so scared. I’m tired,” you grip his robes in your fists, your head falling against his chest, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m falling apart.”

He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against him. You can feel the sigh of relief he releases and his heartbeat slowing as if it’s your own. Maybe that’s because yours does the same. For the first time in weeks you’re engulfed in Draco and you cling to him, circling your arms around his waist and pulling yourself impossibly close. He wastes no time either, wrapping his cloak around you and burying his face in your neck.

Your body shakes furiously in his arms, everything you’ve been bottling up comes pouring out in a torrent of sobs and hiccups. Draco presses closer to you, towering over you and shielding you from the rest of the world. You let his peppermint scent engulf you completely,

“For Salazar’s sake y/n I need you to tell me what’s wrong. I need to fix it, love. Please tell me,” his voice is low and choked.

He’s right, you know he’s right. You squeeze your eyes tighter and grip his back, savouring the muscles under his dress shirt for a few more seconds before you know you’ll have to let go.

“Your father told me we couldn’t see each other anymore. He told me,” you pull out of his arms, leaning back against the tree, “he said, well, it doesn’t matter what he said. We just can’t be together.” Draco’s eyes widen and your cheeks heat up, your words ringing through your ears, “I mean we can’t be friends.”

Draco steps closer to you, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes. He mumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear but you’re almost positive that it’s a curse. When he opens his eyes, your heart stops. His blue eyes burn into yours, glassy and angry but with something else too, something hot and fierce. Your heart restarts when he places his arms against the tree, caging you between it and him. You can’t resist placing your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat pick up as well.

“What did my father say, y/n.” He isn’t asking you, he’s telling you.

You lower your eyes, not bothering to fight him anymore, “he told me he would destroy me if I kept being friends with you. He said you were getting married and that you could never marry a Hufflepuff and that he would destroy me if he had to.”

He staggers back with each word, like each one shoves him more than the last. He squeezes his fists before straightening his fingers, shoving them once more through his hair. His shoulders are tense, his back straight. His eyes are screwed shut again.

“Bloody hell,” he pulls at his hair, biting his lip, “he’s lost his damn mind.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, tugging at your jumper, suddenly hot all over. Now is not the time to be getting riled up over Draco but you can’t help it, he looks exquisite. Messy hair and an un-tucked shirt, the veins in his hand prominent and his rings glittering in the afternoon sun. He’s absolutely and undeniably perfect.

“It’s ok, Dra, you’ll be ok,” you try your best to comfort him but he snaps his eyes open, looking at you like you’ve gone mad as well.

“My dad threatened to kill you! No I am not okay!”

This time you walk to him, pulling him into your chest again and wrapping your arms around his neck. He sweeps his arms around your waist, pulling you so close that you have to stand on your tiptoes to keep your arms around him. His hands grasp your hips tight and you immediately know what he wants. You oblige, wanting it just as much if not more, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his stomach. You tuck your face into his neck this time, breathing in the slightest hint of apples, green ones.

You don’t speak, practically feeling the words bubbling in his chest, “My dad told you he was going to kill you, love. He threatened you and he didn’t even tell me. I am definitely not okay. I need to do something. I need to talk to him. And he told you I was getting married? He’s lucky he isn’t here. I don’t care if he’s my father, nobody talks to my girl like that.”

He’s rambling, something he does when he’s at his end. His words wrap around you, tangling with every part of you and sinking into your skin. They lull you into a daze of sorts, almost nodding off on your best friends shoulder. You don’t realise how tired you are until you’re in his arms, safe. And then it hits you, and you’re wide awake again.

“Your girl?”

You cut him off mid sentence, squeezing your legs tighter around him to bring his attention back to you.

“What did you say, love?” Draco hikes you further up his body, readjusting his grip on you.

Your cheeks flame, your neck hot. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something that you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give. His lips are so close to yours, his breath hitting your lips with every exhale. The courtyard around you fades away and Hogwarts itself holds its breath.

“Did you call me your girl, Draco?”

He doesn’t blush like you thought he would, “yes, I did. That’s what you are. Mine. And Merlin help my father for trying to take you away from me.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, letting his words sink into your flesh. They curl around your bones, laying down a warmth that you’ve been craving for longer than you can remember. He’s right. Of course he’s right, he’s Draco. You are his and you always have been. His arm around your back tightens, jostling you enough to make you cling harder to him. Your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair. He leans his head back, giving in to your touch willingly.

He holds your gaze as your fingers weave through his silky hair, capturing you with his eyes and refusing to let go, “I’m yours, Draco. Please don’t let me go.”

He leans his forehead against yours, “never, love.”

Hogwarts releases the breath it had been holding, the noise of the courtyard once more fluttering around you. You go to get down from Draco but he stops you, tightening his arms. You only shake your head and smile, letting the sunshine warm your face.

Your heart aches slightly still though, “what are we going to do about your father, Dra?

He starts walking, the sudden movement causing you to tug his hair a little harder.

His voice is strained when he finally answers, leaning down to rub his cheek against your head, “just let me handle that, ok?”

You give in, for now, laying your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes for the final time, “where are we going, Dra?”

“We, my love, are going to take a very much needed nap.”

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